Poet's Soul
by HecateA
Summary: If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude. (Maya Angelou) Well, what if everything around you changes and carries you off with it? And how bad can it be?
1. Penalty Shots

**It's probably been a year since I've been thinking of this story. I finished writing it a few weeks ago, kept it waiting, I don't know why. I think that it'll be a three part story, if not it'll just be two parts. It depends on how I feel about Part Three's importance. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Will Solace**

**Dedication: To the guys who've changed for the better, and to those who changed for the worst.**

* * *

**Poet's Soul**

* * *

Who can tell me what a poetry anthology is?" Mr Evanson asked the class. This one girl – Briana Fay- who raised her hand only when nobody else knew the answer raised her hand.

"Yes Briana," Mr Evanson said.

"An anthology is a collection."

"So a poetry anthology is…" Mr Evanson said.

"A collection of poems," the guy who had no filter on his mouth, Caleb Miller, said.

"Yes," Mr Evanson said. He plopped a pack of purple sheets in front of Will.

"So William here is going to- why does everyone snicker when I say his name?" Mr Evanson said. He looked over at Will expecting answers.

"Because people usually don't call me William," he explained. 'William' wasn't even written on the attendance sheet for crying out loud.

"Oh I'm sorry- I'll call you Bill now. Or Willy."

"Will's okay too." He said. A few people snickered and Will passed out the papers from table to table. He pushed through dyslexia and caught the title;

POETRY ANTHOLOGY ASSIGNMENT

_Oh man- please no…_

But sure enough, that was the project that Mr Evanson explained to the class. He went over seven different types of poetry that they'd have to write. Yeah; _seven poems _with an obligatory format and then one _au choix _which was either French for Latin for 'at the choice'. His choice was personally not to write poetry.

The sonnet, the acrostic, a haiku, a tanka, an alphabet, a diamante, a free verse, and one of them _au choix._ None of which Will had ever heard of except for 'sonnet' because his musty old namesake wrote them. Stupid Shakespeare.

"The sonnet's more complicated to write than the next, so I think I'm going to talk to some students who aren't going to write one." Mr Evanson explained.

_Sweet, _Will thought. _That's me. Mr ADHD/dyslexia. Second row sir, sign me up for a sonnet-free project. _

"I'll talk to you before tomorrow's class if you're one of those students," Mr Evanson said. "And there's also going to be an oral communication that will be evaluated with this. Remember, your poems aren't just words. They're feelings. The strongest poems have the strongest feelings so I rather none of you pick your subjects randomly."

The bell rung and everyone jumped out of class. Will didn't get that. You raced out of English like you were trying to outrun a bullet, just to go sit in math for 75 minutes.

He hung back and waited before making his way out. A girl called Jane Clark Green was the only one behind him. She was a head shorter than Will and her long black hair fell in waves past her shoulder blades. She wore rimless glasses like picture frames to her pale green eyes, a bunch of bracelets- one was a Medical Alert bracelet, another was a metal bangle with a bunch of names on it. She was balancing a pile of books on top of her binder. Will frowned a bit when he noticed that no one was holding the door for her, so he accepted the extra ten second stay in the class to help her out.

"Thank you Will," she said.

"No problem," Will said before walking on to his class' lockers.

Bruno and Duncan caught up with Will right behind him as he pulled stuff out of his locker.

"Yo, can you believe what Mr Evanson's making us do in English?"

"I know," Will said rolling his eyes. "8 poems- _really? _What's the point? It's not like we're ever going to actually need to write poem."

"That's if you don't want to impress a girl," Gemma said. She pushed her blond hair out of her eyes. "It'd be so romantic to have someone write a poem for you."

"Well, lucky for us we're not going to try and flirt with _you."_ Will said.

"You're so dense," Esmeralda said. She was a Hispanic girl that'd emigrated from Spain a few years ago. Can anyone say really cool Spanish accent? "It would be romantic."

"I'm already good-looking," Will said.

"But you're about as attractive as a slug." Gemma said.

"You tell my girlfriend that, and I'll talk to your boyfriend. Oh wait, there isn't one." Will said. Bruno and Duncan laughed as she shoved him.

"Where is Bella, anyways?"

"You tell me," Will said.

"Haven't you talked to her?"

"I texted her during class," Will shrugged.

"See? Like a slug." Gemma said.

* * *

Mom was already home when Will walked in. Her school finished two hours before his, so unless she had to stay to monitor extracurricular activities or something, she was always sitting at the kitchen table, grading tests or whatnot.

"Hey," he said swinging his bag off his shoulder and flying into the mudroom.

"Hi Sweetheart," she said as he walked past her and into the kitchen. He pulled the fridge open and examined the content.

"Global warming Will, close the door." Mom said not even looking up. He grabbed some leftover Chinese food in a plastic container and closed the door of the fridge, picking out the eggroll.

"How was school?"

"Like school," Will said.

"Where did you go after?"

"To Duncan's," Will said, more interested in the food than in the conversation Mia Solace was trying to have with him.

"What did you do?"

"Who are you, the FBI?"

"Will," Mom said looking up frowning. "What's wrong? You're a bit sappy right now."

"Sorry," he said.

"Did something happen at school?"

"Not really. We've got a stupid writing thing in English again, but you know." Will shrugged, stuffing the rest of the eggroll in his mouth.

"What kind of stupid writing thing?"

"Poetry," Will said. His Mom looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"And you're not interested at all?" She asked. Will shook his head.

"Why? I never care about English."

"I know, I was just thinking…" She said looking back to her pile of papers. Will gulped down the eggroll and stacked cookies in his hand before heading downstairs to his room. He'd nearly passed the doorframe down when Mom let out; "Your father was a poet."

Will froze in the doorframe. He could basically hear the Xbox calling out to him, but this was a once in a month kind of shot he had there. He backed up.

"Dad?" He asked.

"Mm-hmm." Mia said with a smile. "He was amazing when he found a subject he really wanted to talk about in a poem. He could paint you a picture of a rock and make it look like a diamond."

"Did he write you a poem?" Will asked, remembering what Mr Evanson had once said.

"Mm-hmm." Mia nodded again, still with the smile he'd come to recognise and label as the 'thinking about Dad smile'. "He blurted out haikus all the time, most of them were horrible, but the sonnets were the ones that got to me."

"Cool," Will said, not sure he wanted to hear this much into it. He hiked back down.

See, Will Solace knew zilch about his father. So over the years he'd come up with a very specific idea about who this bozo was to fill in the blank. In Will's head, no matter what pieces of information Mom had let slip, he was a disgusting slob. He drank beer a lot, didn't care about anything, and Mom was totally exaggerating when she said that he had his father's eyes and features because Will was the most beautiful thing ever to happen to Orlando and his father was repulsive and ugly and horrible.

On kinder days when Will didn't mind the fact they were living on a teacher's salary and that everything looked like a struggle and Mom had to work all the time to make ends meet; his father was a lawyer. A lawyer posted somewhere in a nice town with a nice house and a nice family. There was a wife –but not as pretty as his mother was-, perfect little children- blond haired, blue eyed, rosy cheeked the whole thing, and even a dog when he was feeling particularly generous (it took a fair bit of generosity to give someone a dog). And then the very next day, in Will's head that house would burst into flames.

He loved his mom more than anything on the other hand, and he understood why his father may have fallen in love with her. She was a very soft person, with a soft voice, soft hands, a soft touch. She was calm and patient like an angel, and she was very honest. She was incredibly smart, she could come up with facts at any time of the day.

But if his mother was going to start giving him the differences between haikus and sonnets, Will was out of the place.

* * *

Will had to collect an extra copy of the math homework for Jane- since she sat next to him and it was a class rule. He didn't pay attention in math, ran around in gym which was his merciful course of the semester, messed around in the workshop big time, and blew off a period of work in English because Mr Evanson had let them choose their seats in English so he, Bruno and Duncan got nothing done.

After class Will stuck around and lingered awkwardly at Mr Evanson's desk.

"Can I help you William?" He asked.

"Just Will," he replied annoyed. "And… well, yeah. I was wondering if you wanted me to write a sonnet."

"I believe your instruction paper said both," the teacher replied.

"Yeah, but, you said that some of the kids with learning disabilities…"

"I said that I'd go talk to the students in question," Mr Evanson said looking up at Will with his disturbingly clear grey eyes. "I don't believe having approached you on the subject."

"But… but I can't write both, I suck at poetry."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"No but I spell like a third grader and-"

"William, I'm fully aware of your obstacles but I want eight poems from you," Mr Evanson said. "I expect great things from you."

Will's jaw dropped. "That's not fair!"

"Has nobody told you that the world wasn't fair yet?" Mr Evanson worried.

* * *

When he ranted to it about Mom, she didn't have much pity for him.

"I think that Mr Evanson is a good enough teacher to judge what you can do," she'd said tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

When he ranted to Bella about it after supper, at least she had pity for him.

"That's horrible," she said over the phone. He could picture her lying on her bed, her curly blonde hair spread out around her like a fan. It was so pale it nearly matched her complexion. Her heavy brown eyes would be focused on her always intricately painting nails while she talked. "I _hate _Mr Evanson, he's such a jerk. He took away my phone just because I texted that one time."

"I know," Will said. "I don't know what he wants from me."

"Nothing, he's just too much of an ass to chill," Bella said. "He must just have a thing against you. That's what he had against me."

It didn't make him feel much better and he always got restless talking on the phone, so he told Bella that he had to go write an email to Jane since she hadn't been in math class.

"Later," he said.

"Love you."

"Ditto," Will said before hanging up.

He wrote an email to Jane telling her that he had her homework and that she hadn't missed anything they hadn't done the day before, with an obligatory 'feel better' thrown into the mix.

He was looking through the latest NBA stats when Mom peeked into the office and knocked on the wall. Will turned around. She was at her prettiest when it was late at night and she was just walking around wrapped in a shawl, her hair held up by a pen she'd twirled her long hair around, and holding a mug of tea between her fingers, the tab on the pouch dangling over its edge. He felt like he wasn't just seeing Mia Solace from the inside, but this was the way to see Mom's soul too.

"Hi sweetheart," she said walking up to him. She put her mug down and passed her fingers through his hair. Will expected a comment about getting a haircut, but she cut him some slack.

"I'm sorry I may not have said what you wanted to hear earlier," Mom said. "About your English project… If you ever need any help with it I'm right here, alright? I'll be glad to work on it with you."

"Thanks Mom," Will said.

She looked at his computer screen.

"Will, you know I don't like it when you spend that much time on the computer," she said.

"Basketball is important."

"I'm sure that it is, but you know I don't like it. Speaking of basketball, you have a very early practise tomorrow morning. Time for bed, sweetheart."

* * *

Will never made it to his practise. He got out of bed, took a shower, stepped out and puked his guts out. Thankfully he was already in the bathroom.

Nobody emailed him about missing math homework, so he assumed that Jane was still sick. Great. That made two of them.

* * *

The next day he found out that a project had been assigned in history, and that since they'd both been missing he and Jane were partnered up. She wasn't there anyways, but Will didn't really care. He just pretended to read about Pearl Harbour for the whole class.

The next day, Jane still wasn't there so Will pretended to look up Pearl Harbour on the Internet. Her siblings were still at school- Will recognised her brother Matthew, who was in a chair but still fair enough at basketball.

The next day was the same and Will pretended to highlight a Wikipedia article about Pearl Harbour that he'd printed out from the Internet. But he was getting concerned because he couldn't really just do a project by himself- that was crazy.

He emailed Jane that night.

* * *

To: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_

From: Will Solace _willso_

Subject: history project

hey jane,

we kind of got stuck together for a history project on pearl harbour. think we can meet up this weekend and work on it because its due on monday.

will

* * *

Coach made him do suicides since he'd missed the last basketball practise when they were getting so close to a big game against a very foul-playing school. Will hated suicides, but he'd live. He got shoved around a lot by Duncan and Bruno, but also by a bunch of the older guys.

He was on _fire _at practise- which was saying something because even on a bad day Will was fantastic at basketball. He had amazing aim- he could dunk a ball from nearly anywhere on the court. As much as he got teased by the older guys for being a freshman, they respected that. That was another reason why basketball felt so good, because Will could get respected for something.

* * *

To: Will Solace _willso_

From: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_

Subject: Re history project

Hi Will,

I'm in and out of the doctor's all weekend; it's going to be horrible. I don't think I can come to school either, but maybe after school at the library?

Jane

* * *

Bella had gym class, so Will walked her over to the change rooms. Right outside the locker room she turned and looped her eyes around his neck.

"I miss gym class where boys and girls were mixed," she said.

"Me too."

"That's how we hooked up, right?"

Will remembered. A dodge ball had been aiming right for her in eight grade gym class. She'd defaulted to the very common 'let me see if curling up in a ball will divert the ball's track' position, and so he'd jumped in front of her and caught it. Of course they'd been flirting for a few weeks now, so Will said:

"I saved you. Save me a couple of hours on Saturday so we can go watch a movie?"

Because Will Solace might be a bastard, but he was a smooth and attractive bastard.

Bella had giggled and said yes and _poof, _a full year later they were still going strong.

"Yeah," Will said. Bella kissed him and Will kissed back of course. They kissed past the first warning bell and the girl's gym teacher, Mrs. Dion, coughed and said 'excuse me'. Will pulled back and she starred daggers at him.

"Now is not the time, especially since you only have two minutes to get to class," she said strictly.

"Sorry ma'am," Will said.

"Sorry," Bella chirped in. Mrs. Dion didn't move so Will only got to wink at Bella before running off and cutting across the gym to get to math.

* * *

To: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_

From: Will Solace _willso_

Subject: Re Re history project

its a long story but im not allowed the library anymore. how can i get to your house from school?

will

* * *

In class Will was balancing on the back legs of his chair. Mr Evanson grabbed the back of his chair and straightened him out, startling Will so suddenly that he nearly fell anyways. Bruno and Duncan tried to pretend that they weren't laughing.

"William, can I see what you've been working on so far?"

The only thing Will possibly had to show him was a doodle of a cyborg rat, but he decided to keep that for himself.

"I haven't gotten anything."

"Your muses aren't cooperating?" Mr Evanson asked.

"I'd have to start by knowing what a muse was," Will said.

Bruno and Duncan cackled like witches.

* * *

To: Will Solace _willso_

From: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_

Subject: Re Re Re history project

Hey,

You don't want to come to my house, it's complicated.

Jane

* * *

"Is Bella pissed at me?" Will asked Esmeralda.

She looked at him with warning eyes like 'don't go there'.

"Seriously, she doesn't even want to look at me." Will said. "What did I do?"

"What did you not do is the better question," Esmeralda said. Will didn't get it at all and so he played dumb. Girls had this habit where whenever Will did that, they felt forced to enlighten him. "Will, her birthday was yesterday."

"I know. I said happy birthday and had a brownie with a candle for her and a necklace and everything." Will said. "What, was the candle supposed to be lit?"

Esmeralda sighed.

"For three years straight you've given her charms for her bracelet on her birthday. She thinks you forgot."

"But I did something else," Will said. "I'm just completely broke right now."

"Don't get mad at me, Will, I'm not your girlfriend."

* * *

To: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_

From: Will Solace _willso_

Subect: Re Re Re Re history project

its not like we have a choice. just let me know. ill bring info I printed out and stuff.

will

* * *

He was waiting at Bella's locker when she came in.

"Hola," he said.

"Hey," Bella said. She spun the dial on her lock with too much force in it for it to be casual.

"How are you?" Will asked. He felt like an explorer of the fifteenth century- forced to sail, but pretty sure he was going to fall off the edge of the world if he did.

"Fine," she said.

"You don't look fine."

"Well then the appropriate way to start this conversation would have him 'good morning Bella I have noticed that you do not look fine on this day'." She hissed at him before slamming her locker door open and nearly hitting his fingers.

"Are you mad at me because of your birthday? Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't think the charm was so important to you." Will said. "I was too broke to get the only one I thought you'd really like and…"

"Of course they're important to me, Will," Bella said. "They're _our _thing. Even before we were dating you always gave me these charms." She raised her hand to show him specifically what charms she was talked about. Her charm bracelet jingled. "I thought that… well, I thought that since there was no _our thing _you were… I don't know, going to dump me or something."

"Bell, I wouldn't do that," he said. "You know I wouldn't."

"Sometimes I don't, Will. Sometimes I get scared."

He kissed her nose.

"Don't," he said.

* * *

When the door was opened to Will it was by a long and lean Asian girl with a prosthetic leg, so he was nearly completely sure that he had the wrong house.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Umm- hi," Will said. "Is this, I mean… is Jane around?"

"Sure," she said. "Hold on a second."

She turned and yelled out into the house: "_Jane! _Butt down here! Someone's at the door!"

The girl turned. She was college-aged and wearing jean shorts with the pockets sticking out from the hem. "She'll be right down."

"Thanks," Will said.

Jane peaked from the girl's shoulder.

"Oh, Will. Hi, come in." Jane said. Will let himself in and Jane closed the door behind her. She didn't look really sick, just tired.

"How are you feeling?" Will asked.

"Alright," she said. "By the way, this is my sister Lily. Lily, this is Will. He's in a bunch of my classes."

"Hey Will," Lily said smiling. "Is this school related?"

"Yeah, a history project Mr Le Geyt was too stupid to email Dad or me about." Jane said.

"Fun," Lily said. "Love those."

She parked herself in the living room, on a couch already littered with the essential materials of studying –highlighters, textbooks, notebooks, loose leaf papers and a bag of Doritos. Jane dragged him over to the kitchen, where a bunch of history books and sheets of paper splashed with brainstorm ideas littered the table.

"Is your sister at Orlando U?" Will asked.

"Yeah, she's studying criminal justice," Jane said. Her glasses were crooked on her nose. It was cute. "Anyways, here's some research I've already done. I thought that for the angle of our presentation we should do something like an alternative history of whether America would have joined WWII if it wouldn't have been for the attack."

"What?" Will asked. "How does that make any sense?"

"I think it'd be cool," Jane said. "It would show the impact that Pearl Harbour had, and the impact of the American troops."

"That sounds complicated."

"That means that it's a good idea if you're aiming for an A."

"I'm just aiming to pass."

"Then let's both get what we want," Jane said. She explained it to Will and he had to admit that it sounded cool. Like, really cool. So they got to work.

Of course Will was horrible at focusing on things even when she was talking to him. While Jane bent over her part of the project to do, reading and never looking up- Will couldn't stop looking around at the kitchen, the other books, thin air, out the window, at her, at the bracelet she'd taken off and put down on the table a while earlier… It had a bunch of names on it. Will picked it up and played with it, reading the names. _Jane, Matthew, Lily, Adam, Dad, Daddy, Matthew, Adam, Lily… _They were all engraved in different fonts and sizes.

"Don't," Jane said taking the bracelet from him and putting it down on the table again.

"Sorry," Will said.

A while later, someone opened the front door. Male voices flowed through the house, and Lily called out hellos from the living room.

A little boy, about nine, ran in. He was dark skinned and very short. He had stocky limbs and a short wide neck. His eyes were slanted, his ears were small and his tongue stuck out a bit from his mouth. A backpack was strapped onto his back.

"Hi Adam," Jane said cheerfully. She opened her arms and he hobbled towards her and accepted her hug without returning it.

"Who that?" He asked pulling away and pointing towards Will.

"That's Jane's friend Will," she said. The patience in her voice was unsettling to Will- he'd never heard anything like it before. It came with ease and encompassed an awful lot of love and caring. "Can you say hi?"

"I Will."

"Hello," he said.

"You have a friend over Janie?" Someone asked. A man with red hair and bright blue eyes walked into the room. He put a hand on Adam's shoulder.

"For a project," Jane said.

"Hello sir," Will said.

"Tony," he said holding out his hands. He turned to Jane.

"Your father said he was going to pick up milk coming home from the office."

_Your father? _So this guy wasn't Jane's dad?

"-Did he call back asking for the grocery list?" Tony asked.

"Phone hasn't rung since you called, Dad."

No, he was her dad…

"I'll call him to remind him," he said. "Has Matthew shown so far?"

"I think he's still at school," Jane said.

"Okay. Thank you sweetheart, I'll leave you alone. Adam, let's go upstairs and do your homework."

"No," Adam said stamping his foot.

"Yes, yes, yes," Tony said, with an expressive voice. He held out his hand, Adam took it and they headed upstairs.

Jane chewed on her lip for a while before caving.

"Okay, so I guess I need to explain my family to you."

"Sure," Will said. He was wondering what was going on.

"My dads are gay. They adopted a bunch of disabled kids- because we're the ones who have the most trouble getting into foster homes, or getting adopted." Jane said. "Lily was injured in the accident that killed her parents. Matthew was a druggie's kid and they think that that's why he has all his muscle problems. I was given up by a teenager. Adam was abandoned because he has Down's Syndrome."

"Ah," Will said. He didn't mean anything by it, but he realised that it sounded bad the second it left his mouth.

Jane didn't even blush; she just looked at him fiercely. "I'm not ashamed of my family."

"I think your family's great," Will confessed. "Your parents chose you. My mom ended up stuck with me. Like, I love her to bits and everything but I was an accident and my dad could be in Tokyo for all I know."

Jane shrugged. "I'm sure your mom doesn't see it that way."

"Maybe not anymore," Will said scribbling down something about the life of Japanese-Americans living in Hawaii.

Jane shook her head. "Families are built the way they are for a reason. People are too. If it wasn't perfect, then something would have happened to change it."

* * *

On Monday after school the basketball team loaded itself into a school bus that smelled like farm animals. Coach took attendance; they had to wait for Ollie who was always late to everything, but too good and funny to get kicked off the team.

Will was texting Bella promising that he'd call her after the game. She had dance class tonight and therefore couldn't come watch. He stuffed his phone as far into his bag as he could to avoid further conversation, turned around and started talking to another guy.

The other school was across town and therefore it took forever to get through rush-hour. Ollie had appeared just as they'd all about given up on his showing up, with a box of pizza which was nice.

They got to the school a few minutes before the game and left all their bags behind the benches pulled out for them to sit on. Coach gave them a pep talk, they shed their team track suits and went over the game plan one more time.

Will was going to hang back and take shots from the side, which he excelled at. There was a bunch of stuff other people would do, but Will had to focus on that particularly.

"Play hard," Coach said slapping the team captain, Leon, on the back before the ref blew his whistle.

For the first quarter things went well, and they scored 12 points leading the other team by nine points. They were on _fire. _Will had gotten two three-pointers in.

The second quarter: things started getting ugly. Will had been draining his water bottle and watching the other team's coach from the corner of his eye. He was gesticulating widely and slapping his fist on his clipboard. They were a rough school, Will knew. Wrestling, football, soccer, hell- even in _badminton _they were known for that_._

Will had two players tailing him from nearly the first time he set foot on the court. They were closing in on him, Will got a fair share of elboingw, but he managed to put in another three-pointer about five minutes in. The crowd was booing since they were the visitors, but Will wasn't listening to them. The ball bouncing against the wooden court, shoes squeaking as the owners ran, panting players, gruff words exchanged among teammates… those were the sounds that Will chose to listen to. They were the sounds that could wake him up and put him to sleep at night and cheer him up and distract him completely.

Ollie yelled his name and passed him the ball. Will caught it and just as he was about to throw, one of his newly aquired shadows elbowed him in the ribs. Will folded over and with a twist of his knee in between he fell right on it, hitting the floor.

The ref blew of course, and the crowd booed that too even though the call was obvious. The official stayed oblivious, and Will limped back to the bench with Leon's arm under his shoulder.

"You okay, kid? You good?" Coach asked.

"I'm fine," Will said grimacing.

"We'll ice your knee and see how that feels, alright? Okay?"

"Sure," Will agreed.

He got a free throw and missed. He sat out the rest of the quarter.

Half-time came and went. Coach warned them that the other team was feeling the heat and becoming violent.

"Take it as a compliment," Coach said. "We're creaming them. Just play, alright? Okay? Play."

Will's knee was no good, but he still spoke up during the third quarter when they started losing their lead. Everyone was mad, and the other team was brutal.

"Coach, I want to go."

"Not a chance, kid."

"Coach, please."

"Will-"

"My knee's fine," Will said. He'd have hell of a bruise, but he could tough it out for now.

Coach let him go on next time the play was stopped, and nearly immediately Will scored. His blood was boiling, his head was in it…

His two shadows came back. Will managed to make a few passes and another three-pointer. It was his best game yet. Leon slapped him in the back a couple of times.

They were at center now, and only seconds after the jump ball, a player rammed right into Will. He was literally thrown off his feet. He hit the court hard, falling on the same side as the knee he'd hit earlier. Pain shot through his leg, and there was a cracking sound in the elbow area. Conveniently, pain exploded in that area too.

Will heard whistles and a crowd uproar of some sort and swearing players and a sound like a punch before the pain took over his senses, and he blacked out.


	2. Basketball Withdrawal

**Hi! Thank you for the overwhelming support, I really appreciate it. So I decided to split the story into shorter chapters than originally planned, so here is Part Two of Poet's Soul.**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own the characters.**

* * *

**Poet's Soul**

* * *

At least he'd woken up in the ambulance, before the X-rays and the doctor feeling up his side and Mom getting to the hospital.

Diagnosis: he cracked his kneecap, and sprained his wrist- all on the left side. This wasn't really important to Will, because upon fixing his knee the doctor had given him some pretty intense drugs and really all that mattered now was the pretty colours.

But despite the pharmacy invading his system he got the gist of it: crutches for six to eight weeks, wrist in a brace. No basketball. Mom would be hyper-worried now. Bella would swoon. No basketball. No gym class. No shop class. _No basketball. _ Crap.

She took him home with his hand in a splint, his leg in a splint that kept his arm still and a pair of crutches.

Mom turned on the ignition in the car and put her hand through his hair. She kissed his head.

"I called Coach, he was worried sick." Mom said. "And yes, you won the game. The ref gave it to your school after they took you out of the game."

This would have made him happy if he were not on drugs and contemplating basketball withdrawal.

* * *

Facebook was absolutely blooming with support, but really it was Bella who came to see him in the flesh.

She kissed him.

"Oh God, I should have known it was playing basketball that you'd die," she said. The charms on her bracelet were jingling and brushing Will's forehead as she touched his face and hair.

"I didn't kill myself."

"Half of yourself!"

"Not even Bella, they didn't keep me overnight."

"You're still wearing your hospital bracelet, oh my God baby…"

She helped him cut the bracelet off and freaked out for the rest of the time. At least it felt good, but then he was annoyed because she kept helpfully reminding him that he'd be out for the rest of the season.

"They had an announcement for you. They said you were the star of the game and that both teams were breath taken by your endurance and passion and will to play," Bella said proudly as if these things applied to herself. "Not to mention your talent and sportsmanlike attitude."

Will wanted to reply that he felt like turning the kid that had did this to him inside out, but he didn't. He let her swoon and sigh. Mom saved him by kicked Bella out, under pretence that he needed sleep as he recovered.

"I made cookies, I'll make you a doggie bag for your sisters while you say goodbye and get ready, how's that?"

"Thank you Miss Solace," Bella said. Mom smiled and escaped for a second. Will propped himself up on his good elbow and kissed Bella.

"Are you coming to school tomorrow," she asked holding his bad hand. Sensation had come back to it now: he'd been lucky that his arteries and nerves and whatever had been left out of this whole mess.

"Probably," Will said.

"I hope so, I missed you today."

"Missed you too."

"Okay, bye-bye," Bella smiled.

After she left, he checked his emails. A million Facebook notifications, emails from concerned people that Will mostly ignored… But one from Jane that he opened up.

* * *

**To: Will Solace _willso _**

**From: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg _**

**Subject: You okay?**

Hey,

I heard you got hurt, and that you played really well last night. So congrats, but sorry. Feel better soon, and give yourself time and patience to heal :)

Also I submitted the history project. I didn't think you'd want an extra look at it (and you probably don't even care now that you're out for the season- I'm so sorry about that, it must be hard on you.)

Jane

Somehow that made him feel better than the rest.

* * *

Morning came with a high and a low.

High: he was treated like royalty or some kind of war hero. Bella stayed with him the whole morning, holding onto his hand or his crutches wherever he went –super annoying since he wasn't even used to walking around with giant chopsticks as his only support. The basketball team all came to say hi and clap him on the back.

Bummer: his first class was gym.

Mr Despattie sent him to the Center, which was basically where kids with learning problems or bad behaviour went to work and take tests and quizzes. He'd been there on the grounds of his ADHD before, but never without a bunch of friends with which he could goof off.

Mme Riolet, the manager, set him up at a table and told him to work on something. He replied that he had no work, and she said that surely he must have _something. _He said no, and so she told him to find a book to read on one of the bookshelves. Figuring that there was no chance in hell that he'd read anything anyways, he picked a copy of the dictionary up, sat back down, plugged in one of his ear buds and got cracking at doing fuckall.

A few kids came in with tests or work or projects. They either sat down at the hexagonal tables, pulling out chairs whose legs were all tipped in tennis balls, or logged into the computers lining the side of the room. Will was in the room people worked with, as opposed to the neighbouring room where people took tests and closed all the doors. Two offices were adjoining on the opposite wall, doors open and educators typing away on computers.

A kid wearing wraparound sunglasses was being talked to by a woman who looked like she was from the school board, showing him how to read what looked like a blank book. No, braille- it was braille. A girl who chewed gum like a cow was struggling through math- Will felt for her: he couldn't read letters or numbers straight either. Two girls were talking about a project on global warming. One guy was alternating his screen between a Word document and the NHL stats. A girl who was shaking uncontrollably tried to get through a book- her knees buckled up once every now and then. Will wondered why she was shaking, which was weird because usually he'd just wonder if she was contagious. Now that he said it at loud, that did sound horrible.

Then the least likely person in the world walked in, straight-A quiet student Jane.

"Sweetie, you're going to work here for a bit?" Mme Riolet, the head educator, said.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling really well."

"Want to call your parents?"

"No, I'm okay." Jane said before sitting down at a table whose six seats were now taken.

A kid with a museum t-shirt and a knapsack ready to burst walked in.

"Morning John," Mme Riolet said.

Will knew the kid, John McDay: he was one of the really nerdy types that some guys on the basketball team liked to pick at harmlessly. He'd randomly transferred out of Will's art class at the start of the year.

"Good morning," he replied.

"French this morning? Good, you can take a seat over there."

She pointed to the table where Will was jamming up and starring at the blank dictionary.

John made eye contact with Will.

"There?" He muttered shocked.

"Yes, sweetheart." It was the only seat in the house, so it was a stupid question on behalf of such a smart kid.

John sat down and immediately seemed to retreat into himself, like a hermit crab. He didn't talk to Will at all.

The kid with the braille book was getting frustrated.

"David…" The woman said gently. "I know it's hard to learn to read again, but please bear with me?"

"You two stop horsing around with the computers, they're meant for work," Mme Riolet called to two kids screwing around on Club Penguin.

"Do you remember what you learned in ninth grade? This worksheet is just a revision, that's all that it is." One of the educators said with a strong foreign accent.

Those were the sounds all around him.

Will wanted his squeaky sneakers and dribbled balls and idiotic laughter back.

* * *

After school, Will had to write a history test that he'd missed the day after his great fall.

He sat in the Center. John was still there and so was David, learning how to read some more.

Will bullshitted through the test and got out of there quickly.

* * *

Lunch time sucked. Most of the guys played basketball during lunch in the open gym or in the courts outside and scarfed down their lunches as they sprinted to class. Will was stuck sitting with Bella and Esmeralda, which was okay but really long. Besides, he'd always needed a time of the day where he wasn't being coddled by Bella. And now that he'd busted himself up and that she had even more the reason to coddle him, he was missing that time of the day.

Ugh.

* * *

It was Friday and Will had had a bad enough week as it was; he didn't think anything could get worst.

He was at the Center last period, there was barely anyboy around. Jane, for the second time that week, walked in. She had a friend with her, so that she wasn't walking alone for some reason. Like the queen and her escort, or a starlet and her body guard.

She told Mme Riolet that she didn't feel good, and so she sat Jane down to read. Will was having math trouble, so he leaned over the table.

"Jane…" he whispered. "_Jane…"_

"What?" She asked looking at him sharply. Her eyes were blurry, her pupils wide.

"Do you know the answer for number 5b in math?"

"No," she said before turning back to her book.

"Please," Will said. "Oh, come on, please?"

"No Will, shut up. This isn't the place for you to be an asshole." She said before turning back to her book.

_Shit_, she must be irritated. It was actually really out of common for Jane to swear and be moody. She looked as if she was trying to get rid of a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe she'd gotten expired gum from someone or something, Duncan did that to Will all the time.

He went back to starring at his math sheet and trying to figure out why a plus and a division sign had to be made so similar and ditto the sixes and the nines. It was horrid.

About thirty minutes into the class Jane went limp and fell from her chair and scared the life out of Will.

Mme Riopel was at it straight away, and an educator helped Will get out of the way, dragging his chair away with big beefy arms. The other adults and some of the kids like John who were always around pitched in to help move the chairs from Jane, who just lay on the ground twitching, and calm down all the students studying in the Center. Her hands were slapping her thighs and the floor and her head bucked up and down. Mme Riopel bundled up Jane's hoody and slipped it underneath her head.

"What's going on?" Will asked John who was closest and seemed like the most likely to know since he vaguely remembered seeing him walk in the hallway with Jane once before. John shrunk back as if Will breathed fire.

At that moment Jane threw up a bit.

"What's going on?" David kept saying. "What's going on?"

"Seizure Dave, shut up." John said.

Seizure? And nobody was calling 911?

It lasted under ten minutes, and then Jane slowly sat up. An educator collected her things and brought her to the nurse's office. Dave called out something encouraging as she left. She was still shaking although now it looked like she was just cold.

"Alright, go back to work please. That wasn't any of your business." Mme Riopel said. "Please, now. You all have work to do."

* * *

"She's probably epileptic, Will." Mom said over supper. "It's a common enough seizure disorder."

That made sense. She'd said that her dads had adopted kids with disabilities, and the weekend of the project she'd missed a lot of school and was at the doctor's all the time.

"I didn't know."

"Sometimes people with epilepsy can tell when they're going to have seizures and they can plan around it, or take a day off." Mom said. "Aunt Katherine was like that as a kid."

"Serious?"

"Yes," Mom said. "Some people grow out of it."

"So it's not fatal or anything?"

"No, but people can hurt themselves while they're having seizures, that's precisely why epileptics aren't allowed to drive." Mom said. "I had a student who grew out of it and managed to get his licence, though. Had to give it up when he had a seizure again."

"So these just… happen? With no warning or reason?"

"There are some patterns. Bright or strobe lights can set off seizures, and some people are more prone to them when they're sleeping. And sometimes people have foreshadowing symptoms to seizures, so they know what's going on."

"Okay," Will said. At least he knew that he hadn't caused it when he'd asked her about math. _That _was some relief.

* * *

Will was reading the dictionary. Mr Evanson came in to drop a test that one of his students would take after class, and he dropped by Will's desk.

"Hey," he said. "What are you reading?"

"The dictionary," Will said.

"You can do better than that," Mr Evanson said clucking his tongue. He took the tome from Will and picked another one off the shelves and plopped it in front of Will.

He grimaced.

"Sir, this is poetry."

"I'm glad you excel at reading titles and making predictions on the content," Mr Evanson said. "But I honestly think you should focus on the content."

* * *

That night Mom helped Will take his math book and pencil case and whatnot from his bag. She spotted the book that Mr Evanson had given Will and that Mrs. Riolet had told him he could bring home.

"Oh wow," she said looking at it. "That book is lovely! I'm so glad you discovered it Will!"

He wanted to say that it'd been forced upon him, but he didn't have the heart.

"I've read it before," Mom said. "Have you gotten to Emily Dickinson's work yet?"

"No," Will said.

"Oh, I can't wait until you do. I have a feeling you'll like her," Mom smiled.

Where did that feeling come from? Will didn't read.

"Sure," he replied.

And so he felt really guilty about falling miserably short of Mom's excitement, and read before going to bed. Watching basketball on TV made him feel sick, and talking to Bella felt more tiring than anything now.

He found the poem Mom had made a fuss about.

**There is Another Sky**

There is another sky,  
Ever serene and fair,  
And there is another sunshine,  
Though it be darkness there;  
Never mind faded forests, Austin,  
Never mind silent fields -  
Here is a little forest,  
Whose leaf is ever green;  
Here is a brighter garden,  
Where not a frost has been;  
In its unfading flowers  
I hear the bright bee hum:  
Prithee, my brother,  
Into my garden come!

He kept going, reading stuff by Robert Frost and Will Shakespeare and Maya Angelou and whoever else. When he looked up again it was 11:30 and Will realised that he'd actually lost track of time and had enjoyed reading.

* * *

At the Center the next day, Will noticed that John was shooting him periodic looks.

"Hey," he said.

John looked petrified, as if he'd been caught infiltrating a federal bureau.

"H… H… Hi…" he said.

"I'm Will."

"John," he replied in a small voice.

"Nice," Will nodded. "Hey, I was wondering, you know Jane pretty well right?"

John looked everywhere but at Will and nodded.

"Alright," Will said wondering what he'd done wrong. "Do you know if she's okay?"

"W… why do… do you c-c-care?" He said. For a guy scared of his own shadow, John seemed pretty defensive all of a sudden.

"Because she's really cool and I wanted to make sure that she was alright," Will said.

"Oh. She… She's f-f-fine," John said. "It's her umm, her new me-medicine. M-m-messing with her syst-sys-system or something…"

"Alright," Will said. "Thank you for telling me."

John frowned.

"You _care?"_

"Yeah," Will said. The bell rang and John ran before Will could put in another word.

* * *

After his shop class (which was of course spent in the center), Will was one of the last to walk out because he wanted to finish one of the poems he'd been reading under the table. It was some angsty thing by Edgar Allen Poe who just seemed like an all-around miserable guy.

"Will," someone said. David was standing near the door.

"Hey David," he said. "What's going..?"

"I need to talk to you," he said. Dave's head was facing the wrong way, but Will didn't know how to correct him without sounding like a jerk.

"Sure," Will frowned.

"Stop talking to John," he said strictly. "Just don't look at him, don't bother him, just let him be."

"Stop talking to..? Why?"

"You scare the living crap out of him! How has that not been made clear to you?" David said.

"Well I didn't know what…"

David held out his arm. "Take me outside by the garbage cans. Now."

Will didn't know what else to do, but it seemed really low to ditch a blind guy, and so he did what the guy wanted. Bruno shot him a weird look as he crossed them on his way and Will shrugged. David tightened his grip on Will's arm and Bruno whispered something like _"no homo"_.

Once the door had shut behind him David sighed. He took off his glasses and wiped the lenses. Will was actually surprised when he saw his eyes. They looked fine- bright green, no burns or whatnot…

"This is hard to explain," David said putting his glasses back on. "Okay, look. John's been bullied since the first grade, I don't think that that's news to you- the kid shouts out nerdy, he's an easy target."

"Yeah," Will nodded. He'd probably replied too quickly: David gave him a sour expression.

"Well, last semester, start of ninth grade, his brother left for Iraq- which was super hard on him. People got meaner, the guy was getting chassed off the internet by people telling him to kill himself and John cracked. He tried to OD on pain medicine, and he was _way _too close to doing it. He'd left a note on all of our lockers and everything. His sister just happened to come home early from a class she'd gotten locked out of at Florida U." David said. "He can't deal with people like you anymore."

"What do you mean people like me?" Will said his stomach sinking and turning while he got angry. It was way too much going on.

"The popular people," David said. "The people who make jokes about everyone. The people who think that they're better. The douches, the show-offs, the pretty people nation, the über-confident folk who don't even know that they step on toes."

"I don't step on anyone's toes!" Will said angrily. "What are…"

David crossed his arms.

"Think about what you just said carefully."

Will's shoulders dropped.


	3. Missed Shots

**Hi! Thanks again for all the support guys, it's appreciated as always! Enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own the characters.**

* * *

**Poet's Soul**

* * *

**Part Three**

* * *

A hand was run through Will's hair.

"What's wrong sweetie, you look down in the dumps," Mom said.

"Do you think that sometimes we hurt other people without meaning to?" Will asked. "Like, by accident. So to us we do something and it's nothing, but to them it's something really, really big?"

"Hmm… Yes, I think that it's possible. Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?" Mom asked sitting down on the coffee table near the couch. Will shook his head. "The butterfly effect is a rule to explain cause and effect. It says that if a butterfly's wings beat in Chicago, there will be a hurricane in Indonesia."

"What?" Will asked.

Mom smiled and leaned towards him. "One butterfly beats it wings. That changes the air, yes?"

"Yes."

"And maybe it just changed the air enough to change a wind current, and maybe that wind current pushed a big mass of hot and cold air together and maybe that mass of hot and cold air created a hurricane," Mom said. "I think that sometimes we don't even _know _that we're doing it. I think that we change a little something about the universe's plans every time we take a breath and move."

Will nodded. That made sense to him.

"But how fair is it that we may upset some kind of delicate balance or be someone's last straw without even knowing it? How the hell is a butterfly supposed to feel about hundreds of people dying in a hurricane that it created?"

"That's a tough question Will. I'm under the impression that butterflies don't think that far, and so they're not the problem. But what about you sweetheart? Why the big questions all of a sudden? Did Sports Illustrated not come today?" Mom asked.

"No," Will said although all he could think about was a tombstone with 'John McDay, 2006' written on it in a parallel universe somewhere, a parallel universe where a girl hadn't been locked out of her class at Florida U and had gotten home on time, which would have been a few hours too late. "It came. I finished it. Just… wondering."

* * *

Will slipped John the note before going to sit down at the computer.

_Hey John, sorry if I talked to you and you didn't want to hear anything. I hear you. I'll leave you alone. Have a nice day, Will._

* * *

"48," John said as he passed by Will with his huge backpack.

He looked up, but John just walked back to his spot on the other side of the room, sat down, and started scribbling in his notebook.

He looked down at his math homework and realised that he'd done a division instead of a multiplication for some reason. The real answer was indeed forty eight.

* * *

Will was messing around with Bruno and this guy Harper in history. He'd be all alone in the center next period, so he was making the best of it.

"I graded your projects," Mr Le Geyt said taking a huge clip off a pile of paper that probably amounted to half of the Amazon. "The grades were excellent. I had a few very pleasant surprises, as a matter of fact. So much so that I've decided that for the next projects, the teams will stay the same."

* * *

**Stars**

**By Robert Frost**

How countlessly they congregate  
O'er our tumultuous snow,  
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees  
When wintry winds do blow!-

As if with keeness for our fate,  
Our faltering few steps on  
To white rest, and a place of rest  
Invisible at dawn,-

And yet with neither love nor hate,  
Those stars like some snow-white  
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes  
Without the gift of sight.

* * *

"We have to find an aspect of civilian life during WWII and present it to the class," Will said reading the direction sheet.

"Right," Jane said. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her hair. "So… Any ideas?"

"Music," Will said.

"Music?" Jane frowned.

"Yeah," Will said. "_Tons _of songs were written during WWII, some of them are super famous today. Jazz was big at the time too."

The front door opened. Tony yelled in that he was going to run some errands. A few seconds later, Adam appeared in the kitchen.

"Hey you," Jane said holding out her arm.

"Hi Jane," he said going in for a quick hug.

"Hi Will." He said quickly, surprising Will.

"Hey Adam," Will replied, somewhat stunned. "How are you?"

Adam didn't answer her just ran back upstairs.

"He remembers you," Jane said, lips pouted. "Weird. I guess you made a good impression."

* * *

John sat down at Will's table.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hi," Will said surprised.

John opened his book and looked up after a while.

"Listen, you're in one of the English classes that's off on low ropes and stuff today, right?"

"Right," Will said.

"Okay, well… If you need a place to sit at lunch, Dave and I are usually here with Jane." John said. He blushed and looked down at his book again.

"Thanks man, I appreciate it." Will said.

John turned downright red.

* * *

Having nothing better to do, Will wandered to the Center for lunch. Jane spotted him and waved it over to a table where cards were spread out all over the place.

"Hey," David said. "Will, you know everyone right? John, Jane- and that's Marilyn."

A girl with short blond hair, one side dyed completely chemical blue, smiled. She wore long earrings and had mismatched button earrings climbing up her cartilage.

"Do you play?" David asked showing the cards.

"No," Will said. "What is that?"

"Myth-o-Magic," Jane said. "Do you know your Greek gods?"

"No," Will said shaking his head.

"That's okay, you can be my spotter instead. Read my cards for me, you'll learn how to play. It's really addicting." David said.

Lunch ended up being… kind of nice, actually. Really nice compared to usual. He started catching on to Myth-o-Magic, but most of the 'game' was actually just spent talking. He wouldn't have expected it, but all of these people were so funny. Will thought that he was going to piss himself a couple of times. Dave was sarcastic and ironic- a really witty type, sometimes cheesy. Marilyn was just insane and hilarious. Jane made her subtle little comments every now and then that ended up being absolutely priceless.

Will managed to make them laugh too, but the thing was that the jokes that got the giggles were witty. He had to think about it- he couldn't just say something dumb and get away with it with these people. The feeling was good and fresh.

He liked it.

* * *

Will hobbled from the bus to Jane's house. The driveway was empty. Adam was taking shots on a basketball net although his technique left much to desire. Will had asked Mom about Down syndrome at some point after meeting him, and it ended up that Adam's muscles were probably weaker than those of another kid his age.

The ball bounced off the plastic net and he caught it. Lily clapped in encouragement and Adam laughed, clapping his hands. His laugh was full and unalderated.

"Hi Will." Adam said.

"Hey Will," Lily said. "Jane's appointment got prolonged a bit, so she isn't here."

"Oh," he said.

"Come on up anyways, it's all good." Lily said. Will hobbled up the driveway.

Adam took another shot, missed and caught the ball. Will clapped with Lily that time. Adam clapped and laughed.

"This must be painful for you to watch. Jane told me that you played basketball," Lily said. "Not that I'm supposed to ever mention that your name was ever used in our house."

"It's alright," Will said. "He looks like he's having fun."

"I guess that that's what sports are about, right?" Lily said.

Will paused for a minute, thinking over all the competition and trash talk and nastiness that came with playing ball.

"Yeah. I guess…" Will said.

* * *

He closed his locker and realised with a groan that he'd be expected to eat and spend the next seventy five minutes with Bella and Esmeralda and the big extended click of girls.

Will groaned and wondered… Could he show up at the Center and eat there? Would that be okay? Was John's offer long standing or had it expired?

He walked into the Center and John smiled and waved him over this time. There weren't any Myth-o-Magic cards on the table, but a pile of Jenga blocks was threatening to collapse already at the center.

"Sit next to me and your turn'll come right up," Dave said. "We were just talking about stupid politics and politicians."

"What stupid politicians?" Will asked.

"The State just turned down a petition with a 50 000 signatures asking for gay marriage to be made legal in Florida," Marilyn said.

"It's so _stupid," _Jane said passing her hands through her hair. "My Dads were really hoping on it."

"They're not married are they?" Will realised with a frown.

"Mentally they are, to us they are, but not that anybody will recognise that," Jane said. "Literally- they couldn't even adopt us together. I'm Tony's daughter officially, not Alex even though he's been raising me just as much. There are old white men telling me that my Dads can't love properly even if they're the only ones that would take me in when I was a kid. That pisses me off so much."

Will didn't say anything because he'd sound shallow, but the only thing he could think was _I didn't know that the world had this problem._

* * *

Jane was playing with Adam when Mom dropped Will off at her house to work on the project, one Saturday. She was helping Adam take his shot, positioning his hands from behind.

"Hey," Will said. Jane looked over her shoulder, her black hair flopping. She smiled.

"Hey you," she said.

"I shot!" Adam said. "Hi Will."

"Hi Adam."

"I shot!"

"That's great," Will said. "Do you know what will make shooting even easier?"

"Wasdat?"

"If you move your feet like this," Will said dropping on all fours and sliding Adam's feet on the ground a bit. "You push with this foot, keep the other one like that, and it'll make everything easier."

Adam tried again and he managed to score.

He clapped, so did Jane, and Will joined in. The little boy beamed.

"I shot, I shot!" He said.

"Well done Adam," Jane said. "You're going to be a star."

"Again," Adam clamoured.

"Well go get the ball." Jane said. Adam ran off and Jane smiled at Will.

"Thank. He'll never forget that." Jane said.

Will shrugged. "It's basic footwork, you know. Nothing big."

Jane shrugged and called to Adam. "Addy, Jane has to go inside with Will to work on a project okay?"

"I want to shot," Adam said pointing towards the net.

"Maybe later," Jane said.

"We can work outside Jane," Will said.

"You sure? Is your leg going to be okay?"

"I'm fine," Will said. "This is some nice grass."

So they sat in the grass with papers and books spread around them like a fan, looking up to cheer every couple of seconds even if all that Adam had done was catch a ball that had bounced off of the garage. He beamed every time they clapped and joined in. Jane called out encouragements and smiled. Sometimes Adam dropped the ball to run after their papers that kept fluttering off in the wind.

Will had never seen someone be that happy for someone else, much less over something so small. But Will could tell that this was authentic on Jane's behalf. She was genuinely very, very pleased to see her little brother enjoying himself so much.

It was pretty touching.

* * *

He was at the mall with Bella, Esmeralda, Bruno, Duncan and Gemma. Bruno and Duncan grabbed each other in headlocks every couple of steps and about 50% of the time was spent waiting while the girls tried on something already ripped in some pastel-glitter themed store from which they wouldn't buy anything, and then proceeded to complain about the skinniest part of their entire beings being fat.

Will had learned to be patient with girls and to tell Bella that she looked like her name in everything, but for some reason today it bugged him.

He realised that she was doing it just for the choirs of 'no, no, no! You look really good! That really compliments you!'

And that bugged him.

* * *

**To a Mouse**

**By Robert Burns**

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,

O, what a panic's in thy breastie!

Thou need na start awa sae hasty,

Wi' bickering brattle!

I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,

Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion

Has broken Nature's social union,

An' justifies that ill opinion,

Which makes thee startle

At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,

An' fellow-mortal!

* * *

A map was spread out on the table.

"What's that?" Will asked as he sat down.

"This is Our Map," Marilyn said. "All these dots over here are places that we're going to go to. Janie's our secretary, she has papers for everything. We're working on a budget too."

"For real?" Will asked looking at all the dots. "All those places?"

"There are too many cool things in the world to see, and we keep finding new ones. For example there's this naturally pink lake in Australia that sounds cool, but Jane just found a hotel in California where every room has a book as a theme." John said. "Right Jane, what was its name?"

Jane was rubbing her eye.

"You okay, love?" Marilyn asked. Everyone was Marilyn's love.

"I'm okay, I just hate my new meds," Jane said. "Like, you know how I usually get that coppery taste in my mouth when I'm about to have a seizure? I don't anymore, so I literally never feel at ease."

"Aww," Marilyn said. "Sorry love. You know what would make it better? A milkshake from Alton's in the UK."

Jane smiled and put her finger on one of the dots. "It's a theme park that supposedly makes good milkshakes," she explained for Will's benefit.

"My mom says that the best milkshakes ever are at a place in New York City called Big Daddy's." Will said.

"Well, we're already going to the Big Apple," Dave said. "Someone write down Big Daddy's in our list of things to do."

"We can discuss a newly-seen musical over a shake," John grinned.

* * *

**Annabel Lee**

**BY EDGAR ALLAN POE**

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

_I_ was a child and _she_ was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Will shivered as he slammed the book shut. He was in total shock, trying to push the poem out of his mind. That was a horror movie in rhymes, right there. All the while he hadn't been able to read 'Annabel Lee' as something other than 'Jane' and that was the worst part.

No- Bella.

He meant Bella. He hadn't stopped thinking of Bella dying.

Right.

* * *

He was loitering around the school with Bruno, Duncan, Harper, and these eight graders that followed them around all the time.

"Bella's starting to sticky-glue to you," Duncan said.

"It's creepy man." Harper said.

"I just scared her by getting hurt. She's cool." Will said.

"She's not your Mom though. Like, for God's sakes." Duncan said.

"Does she make your lunch and pack a 'I love you' note?" Bruno said mockingly, pursing his lips.

The eight graders laughed and Will rolled his eyes. "Shut up, man."

"Keep Band-Aids in your bag for you? Let me check your bag." Bruno said snatching it from Will.

"Bruno, stop it," Will said to make him shut up.

Then he remembered that the poetry anthology was still in there. _Shit, shit, shit, double shit, triple shit, shit for everyone._

"Bruno," Will said. "Stop it."

"You should see your face, man," Duncan laughed. "You must really have something."

"Stop it," Will said. "Give me my bag."

"Or what? You're gonna let Bella loose on us," Bruno said dancing away with it.

"Bruno, I swear to God just…"

Will hit him in the shin with his crutch and Bruno yelped. The other guys laughed and Duncan ended up with Will's bag, unzipping it.

"Duncan," Will said. He made a grab for his bag, and as he got it back all of its content flew out.

Including the book.

He got some help putting everything back in, but when Duncan read the book's name out loud… Will got a look.

"Thanks for nothing, jerk." Will said taking the book back and stuffing it into his bag before marching off, face red.


	4. Underdogs

**Hi! Thanks again for all the support guys, it's appreciated as always! Enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own the characters.**

* * *

**Poet's Soul**

* * *

**Part Four**

* * *

The guys were all avoiding him now.

Bella walked back home from school with him, and she kept touching his arm and trying to squeeze his hand even if he was in _crutches, for crying out loud_.

"You know, Duncan and Bruno aren't really jerks."

"No?" Will said. "Really?"

"Yeah," Bella said. "They just… didn't know you were into poetry… and thought it was weird… that's all."

"It shouldn't be weird," Will said. "I'm allowed to do what I want, aren't I?"

Then again, _was he_? He hadn't told anybody about his peaked interest for poetry and rhyming patterns and words in general. He hadn't told any of them about how he ate in the Center for the fun of it, about the friendships he'd made in there… Hell, he'd been a little scared of telling them explicitly for this reason. Will didn't think that you should be scared of scaring away true friends with who you were. If you couldn't say that to your best friends- what was the problem? Was the problem you, or was the problem your 'best friends'?

"I think that poetry is romantic," Bella said. "Do you write it? Would you write me a poem?"

Will was starting to think that it was the latter.

* * *

He didn't talk to the guys anymore. It was as if they'd decided to separate themselves entirely from him.

He spent his lunches with the girls. Bella had suddenly gotten on his case again (why are you reading poetry? How can you have that much work to do at the Center?) and so he didn't want to risk spending his lunches there. And as if that wasn't bad enough, now all of his spare time was with the girls. There was only so much talk about brand names and dance studios that Will could handle.

"Why don't you come at lunch?" John asked one period.

"Girlfriend's on my back," Will explained.

John made a face, and suddenly Will felt horrible for saying that.

It was as if his girlfriend got to pick what was right with the matching accessory to go with it- and as if John and co weren't it. That feeling helped him though. Once he said it out loud, it made sense. He was looking at his friends from an outsider's view. The view of someone who was unapologetic. The view of someone who saw them as douchebags.

* * *

**Fairies**

**Rose Fyleman**

THERE are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

It's not so very, very far away;

You pass the gardner's shed and you just keep straight ahead -

I do so hope they've really come to stay.

There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles,

And a little stream that quietly runs through;

You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merrymaking there-

Well, they do.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

They often have a dance on summer nights;

The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze,

And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights.

Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams

And pick a little star to make a fan,

And dance away up there in the middle of the air?

Well, they can.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

You cannot think how beautiful they are;

They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King

Come gently floating down upon their car.

The King is very proud and very handsome;

The Queen-now you can quess who that could be

(She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)?

Well - it's Me!

* * *

Will had to go to the bathroom, so he'd left the Center mid-period with his bag. It was third period, the one with the worst attendance. Will used to nearly never be in class at third period because he'd be sauntering somewhere else- the nearby pizza or shawarma joint, the elementary school's basketball court, the mall...

He was walking back, hobbling on his crutches, when he saw Duncan and Bruno in their basketball team hoodies. He also spotted John in a geeky shirt with an astrophysics joke that had been hilarious last week when Will had had it explained to him.

"Come on kid, we saw you buy your lunch," Duncan said. "You had a ten dollar bill. You're too skinny to eat ten dollars' worth of food."

John was backed up against a trophy case, trying to squirm away. His books, binders and emptied-out backpack littered the floor around him. It was impossible to get away; Duncan's hand was wound tightly in the fabric of his shirt.

"Hey," Will said walking towards them as fast as he could. "Duncan, let him go."

"Go back to the Center, Solace." Duncan said, not even calling Will by his name.

"I'll bring him with me," Will said. "Come on guys, what are you trying to accomplish? Let him go."

John looked absolutely terrified. He was in the exact same situation that had made him consider taking his own life away months earlier, wasn't he?

No. He wasn't. Will was on his side this time.

"You come on. Go away or we're taking your backpack too," Bruno said. "Do you still have that gay ass book in there?"

Will smacked him in the hip with his crutch. Duncan turned around from John and grabbed his crutch. Will let go of the crutch before Duncan could pull him down with it. He was unbalanced for a horrible second, but John quickly came and held up his other hand.

"Go back to class," Will said. "That isn't funny, and gay isn't an insult."

"Funny's the best you can come up with, Poet Boy?" Bruno said.

"Isn't there some better word? Hilarious. Laugh-provoking. Giggle-jerking," Duncan said putting a hand in the air mockingly.

"Bruno, shut up. We were friends." Will said. "Come on man, stop that."

"The Will Solace I knew wasn't a fag."

"I'm still not a cigarette; I don't know what you're talking about." Will said.

Duncan hit him with his crutch before tossing it to the ground.

They both walked off, bumping into John's shoulder as they walked off.

John helped Will sit down on one of the twelfth grader's couches. He even picked up Will's missing crutch for him.

"You okay?" John asked.

"Me?" Will asked, the wind knocked right out of him. "Oh, I'm fine. It's you that I'm worried about. Are you okay John?"

John nodded but he didn't look so good. "Thanks Will. I hadn't realised that you… Well, I thought that they were your friends."

"They were," Will said. "But so were you. And if I have to choose between two jerks and a guy who's basically a heart of gold on legs, it isn't a contest."

John looked at him as if he was going to cry. "Me?"

"Of course you," Will said. He leaned back and regained his breath. John picked up his things in a systematic way that yelled out 'I do this all the time' and sat down next to Will, quietly and patiently. They weren't in any rush to leave, and a question burned Will's lips.

"John?" Will asked.

"Yeah?"

"I really need you to be honest with me."

"Yeah?"

"Did I ever do that to you?" Will asked.

"Back me up against a trophy case and threaten to beat me up for spare change that you'd buy cigarettes with?"

"Just… did I ever do anything to you? Did I ever make you feel small and worthless?" Will said.

John was quiet for a while, but then he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, it may have happened."

"May?"

"Okay, it _did _happen." John said.

Will didn't know how to handle all of his emotions. "I don't even remember doing anything… I was a jerk so casually… John, I'm so sorry man. I'm so, so sorry that I was an idiot who didn't see farther up than my nose. I'm sorry that I was ever any trouble. You didn't need it."

"It's okay," John said. "I know that you didn't mean it."

"You're too good, man. Does intention even matter when you hurt someone?" Will asked.

"I don't know," John said. "But I think that you're an okay guy now. I mean, you stood up to two guys for me while you were in crutches. Not only is that something that only an at-least-okay guy would do, it's also kind of badass."

Will didn't know how much better that made him feel, but John always made him smile.

* * *

**Flaxman**

**By Margaret Fuller**

WE deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone,

Which spake in Greek simplicty of thought,

And in the forms of gods and heroes wrought

Eternal beauty from the sculptured stone, -

A higher charm than modern culture won

With all the wealth of metaphysic lore,

Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore.

A many-colored light flows from one sun;

Art, 'neath its beams, a motely thread has spun;

The prism modifies the perfect day;

But thou hast known such mediums to shun,

And cast once more on life a pure, white ray.

Absorbed in the creations of thy mind,

Forgetting daily self, my truest self I find.

* * *

He was passing notes with Bella in history class when he heard a crash to his far right.

He spun around and saw Jane's arm draped over her desk in a last attempt to hold herself up before she fell on the ground.

"Alright, alright, everyone move your desks," Mr Le Geyt said calming everyone down. "This is normal, don't worry, just move out of my way, thank you."

He was pushing everyone and everything away. People were whispering and girls were clutching each other. Like Mrs. Riopel had done in the center, he slipped something under Jane's head (this time a blanket that he pulled from her bag; she kept it there specifically for that purpose).

Will waited it out. People were watching, gasping and whispering, and Will wanted them to stop. Sit down, read a book or do that algebra homework due next period and just wait it out. She wasn't a freak. She wasn't diseased. She was just Jane and this was a thing that happened to Jane. Although this seizure was particularly bad. It lasted longer, she was jerking more wildly, and she wet herself.

His mouth filled with venom when he realised that Bella was holding her phone and pointing it towards Jane.

Like a camera.

* * *

The period after that was English, and Mr Evanson reminded them that their poetry anthology was due on Friday.

Friday was in three days.

Will had one haiku written.

It didn't even have the proper syllable count.

It wasn't even about nature.

Shoot.

* * *

After class he didn't even go to his locker, he ambushed Bella at hers once the students had mostly drained out of the school.

"Give me your phone," Will said.

"Hey sweetness, did you have a nice..?"

"Give me your phone," Will said.

"Why?" Bella asked with a confused smile and a frown.

"Give," Will said. She handed it over and Will nearly had a heart attack. The Facebook app was open.

"Did you put that video you took of Jane on _Facebook?" _he asked.

"Will, why are you..?"

They'd gone to the same elementary school. Bella must have known that Jane was epileptic.

"Did you?" Will pushed.

"Don't yell at me!" Bella squealed. "Oh my god, what is your..?"

"I will _totally _yell at you!" Will said. "That is such a bitchy thing to do! I didn't think you'd have that in you."

"Are you calling me a bitch?" Bella said.

Will ignored her and went to her photo app.

"Will did you just call me a bitch?" She said again, her voice loud and clear and commanding.

Will ignored her some more, watched the first three seconds of the video to confirm that it was Jane's seizure, and he deleted it. He was disgusted.

He thrust her phone back in her hands.

"I called putting a video of someone having a seizure on Facebook a bitchy thing to do, and I'd do it any day," Will said. "Fill in the blanks. Don't call me tonight."

* * *

**The Road not Taken**

**By Robert Frost**

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

5

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

10

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

15

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

* * *

**To: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_**

**From: Will Solace _willso_**

**Subject: u ok?**

hi Jane

u looked like u had a really tough 1 in history. u ok?

will

* * *

**To: Will Solace _willso_**

**From: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_**

**Subject: re u ok?**

I'm okay. My medicine's all messed up and I can't tell when I'm about to have one anymore, that's all.

Jane

* * *

**To: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_**

**From: Will Solace _willso_**

**Subject: re re u ok?**

im really glad to hear that. but u should know about this thing thats on facebook. its a video of u and im really sorry, i deleted it from bellas phone but i couldn't hack into her facebook. ive been trying all evening but shes changed her password and made it secure. i guess she thought that id try cause i yelled at her earlier. im really sorry.

will

* * *

**To: Will Solace _willso_**

**From: Jane Clark Green _janegenuinecg_**

Subject: re re re u ok?

That's really sweet of you Will. I don't even mind. I'm not on Facebook anyways. Besides, I'm not ashamed of who I am and what I've got. It's not like I did anything wrong. There's always going to be someone who's a dick in the world right? May as well let them announce what they are to the world.

Jane

Ps- Don't get in a fight with Bella over me.

* * *

Will didn't even tap his pencil on the kitchen table for a split second. He just wrote and wrote and wrote and didn't stop. But his mind was busy doing more than syllable counts and rhyme-finding. It was feeling guilty. His inspiration was running low- it was like he only had one thing that he could possibly think of. And it shouldn't be his inspiration, not when he had others in his life.

But it was.

For the first time, he'd put the world on pause and could do nothing about it but write everything down.


	5. Leap of Faith

**Hi! Thanks again for all the support guys, it's appreciated as always! Enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own the characters.**

* * *

**Poet's Soul**

* * *

**Part Five**

* * *

Walking home after missing the bus always led to Bella ditching the city buses and walking with him, giving him a detailed account of her day and of how many good reasons there were to hate some other poor shmuck in the school.

Today was no exception even if he'd chewed her out two weeks prior, and he hadn't made any strong effort to talk to her since. He was vegetative during conversations. Vague on Facebook and two steps away from blocking her. Absent at lunch because of the Center. Unwilling to pass notes in class. Bella was persistent, however, and talked enough for the two of them.

"What do you have there?" Bella asked poking at the folder he was carrying.

"My poetry project," Will said.

"Oh cool," Bella said. "Can I read it?"

Was she under the delusion that he'd written her poetry _still? _

Will's reasonable answer would have been _oh hell no, put that down, don't touch it, what is the matter with you. _That's what any guy would have done. But you know what… Poetry was written to stay stuff, and Will was going to have to say some harsh things to her anyways at some point. His patience didn't run endlessly, he was actually surprising himself.

It may as well be when she asked for it. And so Will handed her the book.

* * *

**ACROSTIC**

After hours the snaps, during class the smiles

Unnatural flipsides to the same person, too malleable for solidity. I'll

Trade you your mask for my own.

Hand over the

Eyeliner, let me cover everything up.

Never mind I have my own.

Tick, tock goes the clock

Is my life even true? I guess that that's the price of

Cool

* * *

**HAIKU**

Though lightning flashes

And though the tides rise and fall

You stay a fixture

* * *

**DIAMANTE**

You

Sugar-coated Plasticized

Giggling Doodling Winging

Light Shallow Dark Deep

Fighting Surviving Sustaining

Complex Unapologetic

Her

* * *

**TANKA**

Your name rhymes with love

It shouldn't be on my lips

Your name rhymes with _so?_

And I completely agree

Your name rhymes with beautiful

* * *

**ALPHABET**

A if for astronaut and stepping where we shouldn't,

B if for black holes because we can't understand it all.

C is for comet, we only notice them when they're burning out,

D is for destruction, when two big forces collide.

E is for Earth and all the loved ones that we hurt,

F is for forever, which may or may not be true.

G is for gravity since something needs to keep us all together,

H is for Hubble since we always try to see more.

I is for infinity, which is an arrogant thing to think we have,

And J is for Jupiter who always gets to be the big guy

K if for kaleidoscope, have you ever seen a nebulae?

L is for light and all the things that just can't be fixed,

M is for Mercury which is too close to the sun to be "of use".

N is for nebulae since everything big has to start somewhere,

O is for orbit, carefully planned trails that keep us close and far enough.

P is for Pluto, for all the little guys who don't make the cut.

Q is for questions marks which we tend to use a lot,

While R is for robot because we can't do it all ourselves.

S is for stars which we spin around until we die.

T is for terrifying because we've all been scared of the dark,

U is for universe which is too big for just one line...

V is for Venus, not far from Mars in myth and space.

W is for William Falkner who dreamed some big ones up,

X is for all the things we haven't come up with yet.

Y is for Yuri Gagarin, being the first up there must have taken guts (more than I have),

Finally Z is for zodiac because we don't quite know how much space touches us yet.

* * *

**SONNET**

Dear Mr Heart, or Mrs. if you wish.

I find that your lies are getting real rich

You tell me to be nice, loyal and true

But now you're all but ripping me in two.

You pulled me in one direction and said

"Oh look, a girl whose heart hangs by a thread!"

And I liked what I saw and went on through

Yet my manners were clearly lost on you.

Because you tag-teamed with fate and hazard

Bent my limbs at angles way too awkward

Showed me a sweeter soul, said _'bon voyage!'_

Then split my heart and sent me to salvage

If you want me to be true, Mr Heart,

Why did you split in two and run apart?

* * *

**BLUES**

You can't blame a bird for flying

We know what it's born to do.

You can't blame a bird for flying

We know what it's born to do.

You wouldn't dare order it to swim

You just like to see it soaring.

You can't blame a fish for swimming

What else do you want it to do?

You can't blame a fish for swimming

What else do you want it to do?

You wouldn't even consider telling it to fly

When you enjoy seeing it splashing.

Yet you blame her for deciding

That she's better than what you think?

Yet you blame her for believing

That she's better than what you think?

I'll let you know that she is more than right.

I'll say it twice without a blink.

Yet you blame me for loving her

Have you seen the way she walks?

Yet you blame me for loving her

Have you watched the way she walks?

If you took a second to see the light she stands in

If you only heard the way she talks…

* * *

Bella looked up at Will, flabbergasted.

"I'm sorry," Will said the second of. Hurt was painted all over her face.

"You're in love with someone else," Bella said.

"I don't know if it's love," Will admitted. He took a deep breath before spilling the next part, "But it's stronger than what's between me and you."

She shook her head, hurt. Will felt sorry but… but he couldn't stay with her forever, could he? Especially not with everything that he'd seen in the past weeks.

"Unbelievable," she said shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"I'm sorry," Will said. "I was going to say it better and I didn't mean for things to change but…"

She thrust the folder back in his hands.

"But everything has, apparently. I don't even _recognise _you anymore, Will."

"Neither do I, but I don't think that that's an inherently bad thing," he said.

Bella shook her head and ran away.


	6. Forfeit

**Hey you guys! I think that I may be able to count 8 chapters in this story, but it may be more. I don't know. Sorry for the long-time-no-see, but if you follow my other stories you've probably registered that I'm not in town much.**

**As you may have noticed, there's been a change in the story rating (one that should have happened long ago). Trigger warning- suicide.**

**The poem that is featured in this chapter was suggested to me by meriland25. Thank you for the excellent idea, I thought that it fit right in.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

* * *

**Part Six**

* * *

"If I see girls in the boy's room or vice-versa I'm chopping off genitals," Alex warned.

"Daddy!" Jane protested.

"Sorry. I'm just a responsible adult, I have to say it." Alex said.

There was a whole patented system that held Jane's household together. Alex was _daddy _while Tony was _dad__. _It spared everyone some confusion. There weren't any nicknames because those confused Adam. If you dropped something you had to pick it up because Matthew's wheelchair was pretty massive in some of the hallways. Certain foods on certain shelves of the fridge or pantry were for Jane and only Jane, who had a special diet to try and help with the seizures, and some of the gluten-free stuff was expensive. If you opened a door, close it because maybe it was closed for a reason (mainly Adam)… It was organised chaos, that house.

Will loved it. It felt alive.

"Have a good night," Alex said.

"Good night," they chanted.

They were all spread out on memory foam and couch pillows in the basement, in front of the TV. John, Dave and Will were going to have to sleep behind the couches once the movie ended. Marilyn and Jane got to stay put. Those were the mixed-gender sleepover rules that everyone's parents agreed on.

"So what are we watching first?" Jane said.

"That one looks good," John said pointing to a DVD.

"Not helpful, friend." Dave said.

John blushed. Most of the group still wasn't 100% used to Dave not seeing a thing, having known him before his accident. But they were getting better and 'okay on the bad days' according to him.

"He was talking about _Life of Brian." _Will said.

"Ah yes, let's watch that again," Marilyn said pulling her specifically-for-sleepovers-socks up.

"Agreed," Jane said. "Will you're outnumbered one way or the other."

"I'm cool with Monty Python," he said resting on his elbow. His knee was immobilized still, but in a smaller splint instead of a massive plaster contraption. It felt lighter- his leg could breathe now. His wrist was completely healed now, so at least he could dribble with both hands when he played ball with Adam. He had a couple of physiotherapy-related exercises to do with it, but nothing extreme.

They watched the movie, chatted nearly the whole time, and fed popcorn to each other, tossing it in mouths or dangling it down like in tapestries of Greek gods.

"You can be the Greek god of basketball, Dave'll handle card games, John gets wisdom and Jane can be sleepovers while I rule the universe," Marilyn said.

"Why do you get the universe?" Dave asked. "Maybe I wanted the universe."

"Maybe you did," Marilyn said. She poked John in the arm. "You- you're being quiet, Wisdom God."

"I'm okay," he said quickly.

"Loneliness, I say," Marilyn said. "Sorry, I'm in the international baccalaureate, you know how it is. Stuff to do _all the time... _I barely have time to get my hair done anymore. Let alone breathe."

"I can walk home alone fine," John said. And walk to school. And do homework. And spend weekends.

"Sorry," Marilyn said again.

"Shut up ya'all, this is my favourite part," Dave called out pointing wildly into the air, probably trying to get to the screen.

* * *

Will hobbled through the hallway with Jane and Dave, who was starting to walk around school with his cane more confidently and without clinging onto someone as much. Pretty cool stuff.

The semester was reaching its end as the weather got even warmer.

"Did you go see Mr Evanson yet?" Jane asked.

"Oh, no, I forgot," Will said tapping his forehead.

"Classic," Dave said. Will elbowed him.

"You guys go meet up with John. I'll meet up with you, alright?" He said before running off towards the English sector, hopefully before Mr Evanson left for lunch. Luckily for Will, he got to him on time.

"I was wondering if you'd forgotten," he said sitting back down.

"I did," he admitted.

"Jane saved you?"

Will nodded. Mr Evanson nodded and offered him a seat.

"What's this about?" Will asked frowning.

"Look," he said. "You're doing fantastic now. These last few weeks you seem… energized. You actually care about this class. You're interested and you know what- you're pretty good in English. I've noticed that you're spending more time with Jane in class, I have no idea if that's a factor but whatever. But some of the damage you did on the first part of the semester, you haven't saved yourself from."

Will's stomach sunk. "Even after the last test?"

Mr Evanson nodded. He looked genuinely sorry.

"I can't fail English," Will said. "I mean… I really try. It'd break my mom's heart… What kind of extra credit do you want me to do, sir? I'll start, like, right now."

The teacher looked surprised. "Wow. Willing to do it. That's interesting- you really are spending a lot of time with Jane, aren't you?"

Will nodded as Mr Evanson took a flyer from his office and handed it to Will. A minimalist black and white flyer advertising a poetry slam on May 24th.

"What?" Will asked.

"Extra credit for me shouldn't be about extra grammar. I mean, it clearly didn't work the first time, right? No, this is something different and challenging. And it happens to be right up your alley, Will."

"I don't understand."

"Have you ever seen a poetry slam?"

"No," Will said. That nearly sounded like a joke. "But it's where my parents meant."

Mr Evanson waved his hand. "Then you can ask your mother all about it. Go online, look up some videos. If you can enter the city's youth slam and perform- I'm ready to grade that poem and boost your average."

Will nodded. "Okay, great, that sounds, great. I'll do it."

Mr Evanson smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. A few other students are entering- a gutsy ninth grader who may or may not give me his form back, two twelfth graders looking to graduate, Jane…"

"Jane?" Will asked.

"Oh yes," Mr Evanson said. "She writes a lot."

"I hadn't realised it was poetry," Will said. "That's… cool…"

Mr Evanson nodded. "Alright. I'll see you there."

* * *

May 7th.

First draft of a poem.

It sucked, it wasn't long enough, and contained absolutely no imagery. Screw it.

* * *

Will was standing right behind Adam, his hands wrapped around the shorter boy's wrists. He was helping him shoot perfect baskets again. Every time the ball would drop through the hoop, Adam would yank his wrists free, laugh and clap. Will and Jane would join him, cheering him on.

Alex called out that he was making cookies and did anyone want to help. Adam did, and so that's why Will didn't play ball with Adam until his bedtime. That was literally the only reason.

"His muscles are getting stronger," Jane said while they lounged on the grass. "He really likes playing basketball, you've given him the bug."

"Ah," Will said. "Well, that's great."

Jane nodded. "You've given it to me too."

"What?" Will said.

"I've always been scared of doing sports because... you know... they get worst when I do physical activity," Jane said wiggling her MedicAlert bracelet self-consciously. "It's rare, but of course it happens to me. I can't even run to class without risking it."

"Fair enough," Will said.

"But I've been looking around and... I think that baseball is something I could do. There's a surprising amount of major league players with epilepsy, and depending on your position..." Jane said.

"I think that's great," Will said. "You'll love baseball."

"You played?"

"I played everything when I was a kid. My mom was desperate to get me to spend some energy." Will said. "Do you catch decently?"

Jane shrugged. "This is just an idea, Will. I don't know."

"We should go find a ball," Will said. "Help me up?"

She did and they solicited around the house.

Tony and Alex had a couple of gloves lying around -they'd met in a recreational ball team so Alex was really excited to give them the gloves- and there was even a baseball that they uncovered in the shed after they' been on the verge of giving up and using a tennis ball. They played catch in front of the house, and Will was surprised by how strong Jane's arm was.

"It's after all the whacking I do," she explained. "Family of four and I hang out with the likes of David and you."

Will laughed and threw the ball back.

* * *

May 11

Why was he writing love poems?

* * *

"I fell and hurt my wrist yesterday," Jane said.

She'd been moody all day and she'd left at third period. Will was 99% sure that she hadn't tripped, but he didn't mention it. He just carried her books for her.

* * *

May 17

Seriously why?

* * *

Jane changed the station.

"Hey, I was listening to that," he complained.

The house had been pretty chaotic- Lily had some kind of study group over, Matthew and his girlfriend were wrecking havoc in the living room and Tony's parents were staying with them (always interesting, according to Jane, since his mother acted like her son had a roommate and not a fiancé. Jane had complained that they couldn't do their math homework and so Lily had just stuck them in her truck, with the AC and the music on. Worst setups had existed.

"It sucked," Jane said.

"Don't you dare put Taylor Swift on."

"What's the matter with Taylor Swift?" Jane asked teasing him. She'd switched to an alternative rock station, so they were fine.

"What's x worth at question 21?" Will asked.

"I've got a 12."

Will had 15,215. He decided to steal her answer. You just had to round it up, right? Round it down... whatever.

"Are you stealing my answer?" Jane said.

"Nope," Will said blowing the eraser shavings off of his homework. Lily would never let them in her truck again.

"You are," she said.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

Will panicked and opened the window that led to the pick-up's bed. His leg didn't appreciate his dragging, but he made his escape with Jane's homework notebook in hand.

"Hey!" She called scrambling after him. She grabbed the notebook from him, but he wouldn't let it go. He flipped her onto her back and pinned her down with his good knee.

"Will!" She said. "Give me my textbook!"

"Over my dead body," he said.

"No, now," she said breathlessly.

"You breathless? Are you dreading something? Something like... this?"

He started tickling her and after her first laugh... well, there went their afternoon of studying.

* * *

May 18

Who was he kidding anymore? Of course he was writing love poems and of course they all sucked because they were about Jane and there was no way to compare to her kind of... well, her kind of everything. His poems couldn't compare to her.

Mom knocked on the door and let herself in, as mothers do. Why they knocked anyways, Will didn't know.

"You should get some shut-eye," she said walking in. She was clutching a shawl around her shoulders and her hair fell in curly strands because of the rain they'd gotten in the afternoon.

"Yeah," Will said. He couldn't sleep. He was hearing the echoes of powerful lines from other freelance poems he'd been watching online in desperate search for information. He was looking at the ceiling and then finding every possible rhyme for _ing. _He had to figure _something _out if he was going to pass after all, and his brain couldn't just forget it for a second and let him sleep.

She sat down next to him and ran her hand through his hair. Her eyes quickly registered all the paper all around him. In the form of notebooks, crinkled balls, photocopies of poems he liked from school or library books, blank sheets just torn out for no reason...

She leaned forwards and kissed his forehead. "It'll come to you eventually, Will. You've got a poet's soul. When it's time to write, you'll get it."

"I only have six days left," Will said. "I'm out of it."

"It's not time yet," she said running her hand through his hair. "That's all. Your father was the same way. You should have heard the crap he came up with on the spot, but when something mattered... when the time was right... it was beautiful. I met him at a slam, you know."

"I know," Will said.

"I'm proud of you for having signed up," she said. "I feel like you've grown up so much Will... my God, it's scary. But in a good way."

She kissed him on the forehead again as his stomach crumbled. "Goodnight darling."

"Night mom."

She shut his light and the door behind her, but Will couldn't sleep with the guilt. He hadn't told her that he'd fail English if he didn't pull this off.

* * *

"Your room really is a mess," Jane said waving her hand at all the crumpled up pieces of paper on the ground.

"Not usually," Will said. These were all drafts for his entry poem. He hadn't thrown a single one out.

He and Jane were working in his room, struggling through the rocky world of mathematics today. Jane was licking her lips and chewing on her cheeks. She'd had a seizure at school and the coppery taste that came before was persistent. Thank you medication. At least she wasn't moody.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he said.

"Have fun," Jane said.

When he got back the mess of papers was mostly cleaned up, and Jane was looking at him with lost eyes as she breathed deeply.

"Nothing's wrong," she whispered when he asked.

* * *

Mom left a poem under his pillow, trying to be helpful.

_Dear Will,_

_Sorry I can't help you with your poem more. My twelfth graders are getting closer and closer to exams, you know how it is._

_I'm hoping this can be inspiring. "A alma de um poeta" is the poem's original name; it was written in Portuguese. __You should look up the writer, Florbela Espance, if you have a minute. She was an interesting lady. _It was your father's favourite poem. He said that it was the only way that anyone had ever put him in words. He said that it was the reason he walked slowly and looked at things for so long, and the reason he fell in love with me.

_Mom _

Oh, the souls of poets  
No-one can understand;  
They are souls of violets  
Which are poets themselves.

They roam lost in life,  
As stars lost in the air;  
They feel the wind wailing  
They hear the roses weeping!

Only those who hold in their chest  
Secret and bitter pains  
Can on moonlit nights  
Understand the poets

And I carrying sorrows  
Such as no-one did before  
I have a soul which can feel  
The poets' very own!

* * *

The phone was ringing.

Will didn't know what time it was, but he was sleeping- so the chances were that it was an indecent time to call.

Mom seemed to think so too when she opened up his bedroom door and handed Will the phone. She grumbled something like 'at least when Bella texted I didn't hear it' on her way out.

"Hello?" Will asked.

"It's Marilyn," the caller said. Her voice didn't sound right.

"What's going on?" Will asked throwing the blankets off of him.

"John… John's in the hospital again." Marilyn choked.

"John? What's wrong with John- is he okay?"

"The ambulance pulled up next door and I was on my roof watching and they took him out and he was unconscious Will, knocked out completely- he was on the stretcher and the paramedics were panicking." Marilyn said. "I think he tried again, Will. I think he did- I can't…"

Will couldn't either.

"Mari- Mari, calm down. In and out Mari, that's how you breathe… that's it… Listen, I can just go and call Jane and…"

"Don't call, all of her siblings have chicken pox. Facebook her. She's working on a project I think."

Will thought back to the giant load of history homework they'd gotten and agreed with her. "Are you home alone?"

"Yeah."

Right; her parents had won a cruise at her dad's work and she was home alone for the next two weeks.

"I'm coming over then."

"Why?"

"Because you need it."

Will didn't hang up while he went over to the laptop and logged onto Facebook, but they didn't talk. Will couldn't figure out what to say, and Marilyn was pretty focused on trying not to sob too loudly.

Will could only mentally slap himself over and over to keep his mind from running off in a panic and leaving the rest of him in the dust. Had John said anything? Acted weird? All that walking home by himself... Will got angry. Had someone been picking on him? Will should have seen it coming based on how much John missed Marilyn whenever the subject of her intense studies came out. Will should have walked John home himself, his knee was nearly fully healed... Guilt rushed through him and blended with concern to make a huge cocktail of emotions.

Luckily Jane was online and after a very quick chat she told him to pack a bag and wait by his front door, and tell Marilyn to hold on. She'd call David.

Will threw handfuls of stuff into his schoolbag. He bounced out of his room and Mom was waiting by the door. She sized him up, him in his pajama pants and a jacket with his backpack over a shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.

"Sweetheart?"

"John's in the hospital," he said. "Marilyn's panicking. Jane told me to wait outside."

Mom looked pale. "Oh dear..."

"Yeah," he said. He didn't even ask for her permission to leave on a school night and she didn't even mention it. Will wondered if she'd have let him run off at midnight with any of his other friends. Probably not, but she kissed him on the forehead and opened the door for him once Tony's Volvo rolled into the driveway. Lily was driving, in her pajamas and scratching at her chicken pox. David was in shotgun with his cane between his legs, and Jane was in the backseat- the only one out of all of them fully dressed.

"We're hiding out at Marilyn's," Jane informed them. "She'd be the first to get news, and she's the one tearing herself apart."

"I'm okay with that," David said.

Lily put the pedal to the metal and they were off.

* * *

The following thirty hours were the worst of Will's life.

It was a Friday, but Alex called to say that they were all off the hook for school. He was mad at Jane for having run off without telling him anything, they should have an adult with them and yada yada, but he didn't discipline her too much. He said to take care of each other, at least they were all in a group, and keep them posted.

Jane made a pile of toast. Nobody was hungry. Will heated a can of Spaghetti-O's on the stove for lunch (he literally just put a can of Spaghetti-O's on the stove and hoped for the best). The can was only half-emptied and the four of them had eaten their fill.

The worst part was seeing Marilyn. She just held her head in her hands and curled up in her fuzzy purple blanket for most of the day. She blamed herself; said that if she'd walked home with John like she'd promised to after his last suicide attempt, he never would have regressed like that. She wondered out loud if he'd been taking his meds anymore or if he'd tried to stop.

They tried doing homework, watching TV, listening to the radio... nothing. The idea was that they would take turns sitting up front and waiting for someone to pull up in John's driveway, but they ended up spending most of the day there all together.

_John, why did you do it man? _Will couldn't help but think. _Look at us. We're panicking. We're freaking out. We miss you already and we don't even know if... yeah. You should have known that we'd do it, we're your friends. You should have known that someone would care._

Marilyn's parents called from the Bahamas or something. She only cried after they hung up, and barely stopped for the afternoon. She and Jane locked themselves upstairs, leaving Dave and Will on the patio steps. They barely talked.

"It's even worst than last time," David said.

"Yeah?" Will asked.

"Yeah. This time it's like... we _knew. _We just didn't..."

"You didn't know."

"We knew that he _could. _That he might try it again."

_You know that about everyone,_ Will wanted to say. But no, he couldn't help but agree with David. John's problems had flown ten feet over them. He felt like a jerk. Again.

"John visited me in the hospital the day after I had my retina rupture last summer. He told the nurse that he was my cousin." Dave said.

"John said that?" Will grinned.

"Oh yeah. I nearly had a heart attack, thank God I was already in a hospital. So now... I feel so useless." Dave said.

"There's nothing we can do. We don't even know in which hospital he _is." _Will asked. "The best we can do... I don't know. Keep Marilyn from panicking is pretty good. Look out for each other."

"I guess," Dave said.

Will only left his spot when the phone rang. It was Alex, asking for news. They didn't have any. Tony had called John's mom, but she hadn't picked up.

While the phone was out they mustered the guts to call John's mom and leave a message, saying that they were at Marilyn's and would like to know how John was going and wished them their best (it was the kind of sap that Will and Dave wouldn't have pulled out of their asses if they weren't leaving a message on a day this brutal).

David's mom called. He passed the phone to him, and he had a screaming match about not wanting to go to his appointment _now, _scaring two elementary school kids who were walking by.

Will's mom dropped by after school. She checked on all of them, and when Will asked that they be left alone she kissed him on the forehead and went back in the car. She told him that the parents were also trying to reach John's parents.

When the kids from their school walked by, Will clenched his teeth. Duncan and Bruno were in the group, as well as a bunch of other guys that Will could qualify as four-star jerks. His hands balled into fists and he started getting mad...

David grabbed his shoulder. "You really want a blind guy to have to go back you up?"

Will sat back down.

For supper they ate cold toast and leftover Spaghetti-O's on the porch. Marilyn _and _Jane were wrapped in the purple blanket now.

When night fell, they built a blanket fort in the living room and refused to move out of it. It had a window view. Jane insisted that they try to play Myth-O-Magic to take their minds off of things. It didn't, but Marilyn didn't cry again. That was good.

Tony popped by. He said that they shouldn't be spending the night alone. Jane told him that they were fine and that he should go back home because everyone had chicken pox. The consensus was that every hour someone would come check on them, or text Will.

The night was fruitless as far as sleep went until about 11:00 PM. Marilyn was curled up under Will's right arm, Jane under the left. Fatigue hit eventually though- and hit hard. Marilyn fell asleep against David who fell asleep after contemplating whether or not a joke was to be made, and Jane didn't last much longer.

Will couldn't take it and he crept out of the blanket fort and out the door. He sat on the porch with a flashlight and made shadow puppets against the driveway. He couldn't take his mind off of John.

John who wanted to travel the world.

John who tutoured them in science- especially astronomy, his favourite branch.

John who was the champion of Myth-O-Magic.

John who had all the nerdy apps.

John the walking encyclopedia.

John the most forgiving guy Will knew, except towards himself.

John, John, John, John, John.

He sighed and flicked the flashlight off. He looked towards the sky.

Will's brain suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

* * *

Jane sat down next to him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," Will said putting his notebook down. "You okay?"

Jane nodded. "It's not warm out here."

"Not really, no," Will said. Jane wrapped her blanket around his shoulders.

Will dreaded having to talk to her like he'd talked to Marilyn. He wasn't like his father according to _"A alma de um poeta". _ He didn't notice little things, or pull the right thing to say out of his ass and made a spectacularly eloquent delivery. He didn't have a poet's soul.

_But no. _ All that Jane needed was to share her blanket with someone.

Maybe that was what being a poet was all about. Being able to do and say the right thing, regardless of rhyming pattern or theme or whatnot. Maybe Will was doing something right. Or so it felt like it when Jane fell asleep against him, her hands wrapped in his shirt.

He answered the 2:00 AM "are you guys okay?" text from Alex, and fell asleep on the porch. They slept until 10:00 PM, when Rosaline McDay came and said that she had news about her brother.

As they headed back inside to find out where David and Marilyn were at; Rosaline promised to Will, in his ear, that she wouldn't tell Jane's dads.

* * *

It was awkward in the hospital. The air was palpable.

"I'm sorry guys." he said, sitting in his hospital bed- shoulders slumped. That was what broke the silence.

"Don't be sorry," Marilyn said throwing her arms around John. He looked surprised, but hugged her back. His glasses were on his nose, and he looked pale and horrible.

Rosaline had explained that he'd overdosed again, while she and John's dad drove them to the hospital. He'd taken a bunch of aspirins to get rid of a headache while studying, and most of his depression medicine was gone when they'd last checked. He hadn't been taking it for weeks, and it was all gone at once. This had come even closer than last time.

John rested his head on Marilyn's shoulder.

"We're just glad that you're okay," Jane said.

"Like, really glad," Dave said.

"Don't sweat it, okay? We're all cool." Will said.

"We brought some of your stuff over too, in case it'd make you feel better." Dave said. "And some stuff that isn't yours but that we thought would be cool- namely, Oreos."

"And some Harry Potter DVD's. Also a PJ shirt that you left at my house." Jane said. "We did our best but only took about ten seconds of packing. We couldn't wait to see you."

"Thanks guys," John said. He still looked sheepish, but Will wasn't giving up. And neither were the rest. They were going to make John understand that nobody blamed him and that nobody was mad. They were going to go back to the way things were before, except even better. They were going to dissolve the tension in the air and make it feel like the atmosphere at a sleepover, at the movies, at the bookstore... they were going to make things like they were before.

The game of Myth'O'Magic in which he creamed them all certainly did the trick. Also it helped Will's heartbeat return to normal after the scariest weekend of his life.


	7. Gameday

**Hello again. Two very important things happened last night.**

**1) Poet's Soul officially became more than 100 pages long.**

**2) I finished drafting Poet's Soul. **

**Yeah. I too am freaked out. **

**The story stands at ten chapters, 111 pages and 28,811 words (all subject to change- I'll give you the final stats once the final chapter is all said and done if anyone would like to know). **

**So even if yesterday you got a fresh new chapter, I've got to celebrate the amount of time I dedicate to fanfiction instead of the things I actually have to do. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

* * *

**Part Seven**

* * *

"Why do I get the iPad?" John asked when Marilyn handed it to him. He was dressed today. In sweatpants and a t-shirt with an astronaut's picture and the caption 'Original moonwalker', sure, but dressed. He'd been walking around the psych ward the day before, so that was good news. He even went down to the vending machine with Dave and got a candy bar the other day- he managed to keep it down.

"Because, Jane and Will are performing tomorrow," Marilyn said. "We don't want you to miss it; I'll Facetime you and Dave and tape it."

"That's tomorrow?" John said checking the day on his iPod.

"Yeah," Jane said. "Wish us luck?"

"You guys don't need it," John said.

* * *

Mom drove them over to the Art Center. She kissed Will on the cheek a thousand times before releasing him. Jane didn't even tease him about it; she got a hug from Mom. Her fingers were closed around the strap of her messenger bag tightly. Buttons dotted the strap.

"You look really pretty today," Will blurted because he was sick of how quiet things had been in the car. She looked up and smiled. Her skin looked paler than usual. Her glasses were pinned to the collar of her blouse, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows so that her clump of bracelets was clearer than ever. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. She wore jean shorts and leggings.

"I didn't dress up or anything," she said.

Oops.

"I know," Will said for lack of better idea. Jane frowned and gave him a weird little smile, a weird little smile which had a sequel when he held the door for her.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," Will said awkwardly.

They navigated the building until they found a stressed out looking guy with a clipboard. Jane recognised him from last year.

"Will Solace and Jane Clark Green," Jane said. The guy looked at his clipboard, scrawled everything down and gave them instructions so quickly, Will nearly missed it all.

They weren't to leave the center for the rest of the day.

They were going to run a rehearsal at about 2:00 PM when they knew that all the poets had arrived- you didn't say your poem, just a little monologue in the mic to make sure everything was okay.

There was a brief after that to refresh everyone on the rules.

Dinner would be served at 5:00.

The slam started at 8:00 and they were all to be in the dressing rooms half an hour an advance.

Adults weren't permitted in the stage area except for special circumstances. Have a nice day and be good.

* * *

They perched themselves on the windowsill. The center was quiet, they were among the first few there. Jane read the play her final English presentation was about –The Winter's Tale- and Will was so nervous, he reread his poems.

"I got a text from Mr Evanson," Jane said.

"He has your number?" Will frowned.

"For homework and stuff," Jane nodded. She raised her head. "He says break a leg, he'll be in the crowd."

"He will?"

"Well duh. He's grading you." Jane said.

Will's stomach gurgled. He'd been worried about performing. Not about _passing. _

"Are your dads coming?" Will asked.

"Yeah. But Lily and Matthew are babysitting. Your mom?"

"Yeah. Said she wouldn't miss it for the world."

Jane smiled. The sunlight shone over her face, and seemed to weave itself in the creamy colour of her blouse. Will half expected the roses dotting her top to grow.

"She's sweet."

"Yeah. I kind of didn't want her to come. I didn't want to dissapoint her."

"You won't," Jane said taking his hand.

Jane took his hand.

Jane was holding his hand.

_Jane had took his hand. _

"Clark Green!" Someone cried.

They both looked up and Jane laughed.

"He was there last year too," she said nodding her head towards the guys coming at her. She stood up on the windowsill, and put her reading glasses away and waved. "Trevor!"

* * *

The same guy who'd welcomed them to the center gave the brief- still as stressed and still with clipboard.

"This year we're trying a new system. We have different rounds in three different rooms," he said. "There are three unbiased judges in the crowd, they'll grade each poem from 1-10 after the sacrificial poem. There will be eight poets in the first round, six of you in the next, and four in the last. We only take two poems to the finals. If you make it to the finals, you get a twenty minute pause while everyone goes to the main theater including one judge from each room. Six poets in the final round, and we exhaust you with three poems each so that your scores can pile up and we can figure out who gets what. That's why you were all told to have six poems in stock, and why less people joined this year."

That's what Will understood, anyways. There was a 'good luck, be a fair sport, you're all winners' bit and a reminder that no props or costumes were accepted in slams, too but Will tuned out.

He was kind of busy looking at Jane twirling her hair.

* * *

Will hadn't expected to mingle half as much as he did- but he couldn't help it. The people were cool, everyone was friendly, they all knew Jane and he was naturally social.

And now he had pop coming out of Justine's nose while Emad and Trevor peed themselves and Marie snorted. Jane wasn't laughing because she'd heard his joke a thousand times before.

* * *

He said goodbye to Jane after supper. She was in Room three, and Will was in Room two- the black box theater. He wished that they could have been in the same room because he'd have wanted to hear her poems.

He was backstage. Trevor had to pee, so he was on his own looking at the wall.

_You probably won't even make it past Round One, _he reasoned. _Just worry on not forgetting _one _poem. The others are whatever. _

"No need to be nervous, kid." Someone said.

Will jumped out of his skin. The guy had totally shook him out of his thoughts. He had curly blond hair and he was wearing sunglasses indoors, sign number one that he was a jerk. He was wearing a crisp grey suit and a shirt the colour of the sky.

"Pardon?" Will asked. The guy wasn't wearing one of the 'With the SLAM' passes like the other people doing stage managing or tech were.

"Shake the nerves," the guy said. "You'll be fine. Go with the flow."

His voice dropped when he said 'flow' and he stretched out the word.

Sign number two that he was probably a jerk.

"Great," Will said. "Thank you sir."

"No problem," he replied. Will turned back towards the wall and right back to struggling with his breath.

"And kid?" he said.

"Yeah?" Will asked.

"Save your truest poem- the one that everyone needs to hear… make that your finale."

Will's eyes widened and he had to admit, hearing that made him panic a bit. How did this clown know..?

"Are you even supposed to be here?" he said. The guy smiled and walked away. Will chased after him no matter what the people in charge had said about running backstage, but the guy was gone.

"Final check on which poem everyone will be reciting on the first round," the stage manager said waving around a clipboard with the list.

Will ran to it, knowing that he had to change the order.

* * *

The sacrificial poem was to get all the judges to calibrate their judging.

Will heard it. Heard the message and the words and the crowd's reaction.

And he knew that he was in trouble.

* * *

He spotted Marilyn in the crowd. She was there, holding her phone up so that John and Dave got to hear the poems via iMessage. He saw Mr Evanson in the crowd, sitting with his hands folded across his lap and not a single sign of an evaluation grid or anything. He saw Mom sitting in the crowd. She was wearing her flowery dress with the white lacy cardigan, and smiling.

That's when he swallowed for the last time and rang into his poem.

"An open letter to people with genitalia and no instruction manuals on the proper use of," Will began.

Right away the crowd cheered.

* * *

He walked off the stage on the other way, feeling a rush in his head. This felt like basketball. Basketball that didn't burn as much energy and required much less running, but people were cheering and appreciating something that he did- a play he'd created, a move he'd pulled off, a point he'd made…

"Will Solace stay here," the stage manager said.

Will frowned. "Why?"

"The judges scored you at 26," he said. "Fat chance you'll move on to the next round."

And so Will sat down next to a few other giddy kids who slapped him on the back and hugged him.

* * *

He'd somehow pulled this off.

His first poem had made people laugh enough for the judges to score him big. He'd meant to do that. He'd been particularly pissed at seeing his mother come home from the job overworked one day when his knee had been too busted for him to fix up the house or cook. He'd wanted to write about the stupidity of fathers who left, but knew that Mom wouldn't be able to digest it well if he was blunt. So he'd been funny.

His second poem had been about music, because he'd pulled off tons of history projects about music in various eras and situations- so he'd figured 'what the hell, maybe it'll still work without Jane helping me out with it'. It had. He'd compared emotions to instruments and set the poem up as if they were all playing in a room, with somekind of godly force that ended up being the subconscious as the maestro. It'd worked. He guessed that the imagery was pretty good.

He was in the third round. Four of them were left, two would go forwards.

Will counted himself out. He thought back to the man's advice.

_Save your truest poem- the one that everyone needs to hear… make that your finale. _

Will knew which poem the creep of a mind reader had been talking about.

But he couldn't make himself go out and say it; and so he didn't write down that particular poem's name as his third entry on the sheet that would be forwarded to the master of ceremony.

And strangely enough, he passed to the next round.

* * *

"Will!"

Jane hugged him.

"You're here too!" She said. "All the way to the finals!"

"Strangely enough," he said his arms just conscious enough to hug her back. "I knew you'd make it."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Didn't last year. I was a third rounder."

"Oh well. Do you have something good as your first entry?"

Jane looked pale. "Yeah. It's… the guy with the order is gone right?"

"Yeah, the last call was, like, five minutes ago. Why?"

"No reason," Jane said. "Just because."

"Weren't expecting to have to perform whatever you wrote down?" Will said. He was about to tell her that he hadn't been expecting to have to perform past the first round, but Jane's whisper intrigued him too much for him to go on.

"Not at all," she said not meeting his eyes.

* * *

They proceeded by alphabetical order. Apparently.

A girl with a mouthful of a surname went up, and then there was Jane. Oh yeah. Then there was Jane...


	8. He Shoots

**Sorry for the cliffie but I had a demon's time writing this chapter. I hope that you enjoy it though!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the following characters.**

* * *

**Part Eight**

* * *

"Please welcome to the stage Jane Clark Green and her original poem _Perfect." _

The crowd went wild, like they did every time, unambiguously. It was something that Will had grown to like about the slam- the supportive, happy atmosphere. The lights were dimmer for Jane and they didn't flash: maybe the tech guys had a note saying that she was epileptic? Will hoped so- he didn't want anything to go wrong.

Jane walked up to the microphones and readjusted it. She tapped into it and took her ten seconds of grace to cool down, eyes closed and head tilted before looking up and speaking.

"What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

Shakespeare meant it rhetorically but let's be real;

Names carry weight. It's not the chihuahuas that we name 'Thor'

And we associate genders and adequacy to sets of syllables.

There's a reason that the word 'cancer' launches chills,

And there's a reason that the very word 'baby' will send hearts in whirls.

See, they say that a newborn is pure.

That's why we coo for children we don't know, or at least not yet.

They are perfect and untouched, soft as velvet and tender as tender can be.

The cruelty in the air has yet to wander their lungs and travel with their blood.

With a coo they have everyone wrapped around their fingers,

And their giggles are supposedly the making of an angel's conception.

I was never a newborn.

I was never perfect, I was never whole.

My eyes rolled in my head and my limbs shook.

I didn't take food I coughed it up.

I thrashed under every touch and screamed for every pretext.

I cried loudly enough to wake the dead,

And by my third day home, a skeleton came at my father's door and yelled

'Will you make that kid shut up?'

They say you were made in paradise,

And that everything in God's image or created by Our Lord and Saviour- do you have a minute to talk about him?- is perfect.

That's why the orbits of the planet, elliptic and imperfect, were shunned upon discovery.

Galileo was thrown in prison for sustaining that maybe even God had made a circle that wasn't round, an angle that was crooked, or a loop that didn't de-doo.

He wasn't an atheist for nothing, and neither am I.

Some people said that I'd grow out of it,

Maybe I'd acquire a taste for both vegetables and being neurotypical at once.

But let me tell you- if you're born with greatness or have it thrust upon you,

Why would it be different for brokenness?

Really it's two heads to the same dragon, armed with the same destroying teeth and acidic eyes.

And I just happen to be halfway down the ugly one's throat

I didn't grow pure, I grew worst.

I didn't grow perfect, I grew perpendicular to such a thing.

So don't go and tell me that I'm perfect as I am,

Because I know what a dictionary is and I have used them,

I've looked up words and frowned when I realised

That even the English language had pitted itself up against the twist in my genes.

But then you came.

You painted with a broken brush and dried paint on a pierced canvas.

You drew with a blunt lead on wrinkled paper.

You painted me with all those faulty art supplies.

Everything was misspelled and the syllable counts were wrong,

The metaphors awkward and the verses were so long, I was mentally correcting every word that I read.

The curls emerging from my scalp were crooked and the nose too narrow; the eyes the wrong shape and the chin too strong.

They were only drafts.

You painted me imperfectly.

But I felt perfect."

* * *

The poem was met with loud cheers and Jane tilted her head before going offstage, exiting to the left wing, and opposite of Will's with the other girl who'd already performed.

He was shaking.

She'd picked up one of his drafts and read it, sitting on his bedroom floor surrounded by art supplies. She'd read the drafts from when he'd been writing love poems, and she'd read one with her name or description in it.

She knew.

And she liked it.

* * *

Will was the before-last guy to perform, and when he walked onstage after being called he used his ten seconds of grace to do something that was rash for several reasons:

1) He was out of practise.

2) He wasn't sure if it was legal.

3) Their parents, friends and even a teacher for God's sake were all watching.

But he did it.

He started by adjusting the mic.

"I'd like to clarify that I'm not going to recite the poem they announced. I'm going to perform something called _Icarus."_

He grabbed the mic and spun towards the left wing where all the other poets were, trying not to visualise groans and curiosity and people disqualifying him ASAP. He met Jane's eyes. She looked scared

"Cheerful people, the ancient Greeks. Real joys. Must've been fun at parties."

He had to stop. People were laughing. _Like last round, _he told himself. _Don't rush it._

"They were great at the theater, at any rate. Fantastic with their stories.

They were kind-of intrigued with the whole death concept, and incest too I guess- both was the ideal.

They said that an inventor built a set of wings one day.

He made each feather one by one, sculpted them out of bronze right down to the the detail of the barbs.

He strung them together with leather strips and wax. He worked until his arthritic hands couldn't, and forced his eyes open until sleep shut them for him.

He put the wings on. The straps slipped over his shoulder as beads of sweat slipped down his face and everything in his stomach threatened to shoot up.

He put a second pair on his son. They took off.

They flew over land. The colours popped and the deltas and lakes shined. The rivers course seemed slower, distance was but a blink.

They flew over villages. The mighty temples and the grand markets seemed so small, nothing would compare once they landed.

With hands over their eyebrows, people emerged from their homes and watched. They watched man do what only gods could.

They flew around mountains, the rocks glistening in the sun and the moss greener from a distance.

They flew over the sea. Mist splashed on their face. The sea's inhabitants waved- oceanids and nereids and mermaids and who knew what else they'd imagined in those waves. No matter what they were: they all emerged from their kingdoms to watch the man soar.

But they didn't fly up.

Only the son did.

He laughed as he spun and looped through the sky. He laughed as he climbed in altitude. He laughed as the air thinned. He laughed as the sunlight touched his skin.

He screamed as the sun torched the wax and as the feathers dropped from the leather bands. He screamed as they dropped into the sea, dispersing the happy crowd of merfolk. He screamed as they sunk. He screamed as the wings were stripped. He screamed as he fell into the sea, but they say that he drowned quietly."

The crowd cheered at that line. He guessed that they must sound intense.

"My mother isn't Greek, but she says that she doesn't know any better stories.

My five year old self begged for the Bereinstein Bears as I got increasingly scared of water and planes alike.

It wasn't meant to be a lesson, but for my entire life it served as one.

Icarus flew too close to the sun.

Fly too close to the sun, you fall.

Fall, and you crash.

Crash and you burn.

Burn and you're nothing once the pain stops.

And so I'd like to apologise to you for not telling you sooner.

I wasn't scared of you, at least not directly.

I wasn't afraid of what I felt, at least not entirely.

I just didn't want to fall

Harder than I'd fallen for you."

* * *

Jane met his eyes and whispers coursed through the crowd as people registered what had just happened.

Will didn't look up at the crowd. He would _so _end up staring Tony or Alex in the eyes.

He just quickly walked offstage.

He and Jane only had eye contact for a second and no time to talk before she was whisked away to the other side of the theater.

The crowd was still cheering.

* * *

Jane faced the crowd and blushed a little when the cheering drew itself out, while she lowered the microphone to her level.

"I'd just like to say that I'm going to change my poem too. This one's called _Regrets." _

Then she turned the mic towards the left wing. The crowd lost it before Jane could even say a word.

"Sometimes someone dies while they live.

Sometimes, the heart decays before the skin even grows cold.

Death settles in before the wrinkles and the light in their eyes leave before the breath in their throats.

Before the heart even stops beating, it's been chewed through by regrets to match the nails that it grows and the tips of pencil it wields.

They never write 'regret' as a cause of death, but sometimes there just isn't anything else to call it.

Life's too short and the waiting line to hell is too long.

I don't have the time for the after, only enough to invest in the before.

Before I take a step forwards, I need you to know.

There are three things that my father regrets in life.

1) He regrets not being honest with himself.

I'll be honest. My heart joined the circus a while ago and I haven't been able to keep up or control what it around you anymore.

I'll be honest, your eyes are mesmerising and I do look at them more than I look at any other square inch of your body.

I'll be honest, you make me think of sunshine and light, warmth and comfort more than anything ever could or has.

Your voice streams through windows on a summer day and your arms are that worn out sweater that my entire family has asked me to throw out.

I'll be honest, I spend way too much time visualising your arms around me.

I'll be honest, I remember sleeping with you as my pillow and the stars as my blankets more fondly than I should."

She took a deep breath.

"I've eliminated regret number one.

2) He regrets the way that he let the wrong people get too close. He regrets letting others hurt him.

Prove to me that you won't hurt me.

Prove to me that you've got the gentle giant's touch on that 5'8 of limbs and sunshine.

Prove to me that when you see birds flying you do feel something, prove to me that it does bother you how people treat each other.

Prove to me that you see me like a person.

Prove to me that you've changed.

Prove to me that you'd spend time healing me for damage that you aren't even responsible for."

Jane took a shaky breath.

"I've seen you wrap your arms around a child and hold them high enough for them to believe that you're touching the sky.

I've see you frown and smile and melt and snarl at the world as the Ritcher scales score perfect tens on your emotions and comfort zones.

I've seen you remember the little things. I've seen you inquire about the little things.

I've seen the gel leave your hair and smelled the Axe on your clothes less and less as the days went by.

I've seen your aura claim back your body- it's gold as your hair with dashes of red for the blood that boils in my stomach and the silver of the stars.

I've seen you scramble for words and play Scrabble with 21 letters in live action, trying to score a Word Double to fix the shattered worlds of shattered people.

You've proved to me that you wouldn't hurt me.

I have therefore eliminated Regret Number Two, and only Regret number three remains.

3) He regrets the things he never had the courage to say.

Let's see how much braver I become.

Let's see if that bravery will be enough for me to choke out the words.

Let's see if maybe I'll be able to say them sweetly.

Let's see if one day I'll be able to tell you how much you mean to me.

Let's see if one day I eliminate Regret Number Three"

* * *

"There's been another slight change," Will said moving the mic. The crowd seemed fine with that. "This one is called Boyfriend Material."

Will moved the mic to look at Jane in the wing as he recited. She'd put her glasses back on and she was playing with her hair. Damn it she was cute.

"My mother brought home a sketchy boy sixteen years ago and my grandmother never let her forget it.

The sketchy boy's gone, my mother's sweet as sugar, and so there's nobody left to project on but the remaining mistake nine months in the making.

The second I walk into my grandmother's house my shirt's go to be tucked into my pants and if my hair is out of place I am s-c-'_rude child, hasn't your mother raised you in something a bit better than a barn?'_

If my collar isn't buttoned I get this much closer to deportation and this much farther from ever getting anything but a dirty eye from the hag who won't let anything be less than sparkling.

If my GPA hasn't gone up I'm getting the slimmest slice of cake for dessert, and if I haven't managed to not look like that sketchy boy in the last week since she's laid eyes on me, then I'm lucky to eat at all."

People snapped their fingers. Will waited it out before continuing on a slower rhythm.

"This raised a particularly good question that I'm particularly concerned about.

I don't know who to ask because my mother clearly has bad taste and my grandmother is clearly a seventy year old woman on the verge of senility, so this question lingers.

What makes good boyfriend material?

What do I have to do to be good boyfriend material?

Is there _anything _I can do be good boyfriend material if I don't think I was born with it?"

Will took a deep breath.

"Let me ask you.

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I learned what a grande and a venti were so I could bring you a warm drink, savoury with familiarity when things went wrong?

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I copied your favourite books onto my hands so that when you'd call in a fit of insomnia, I could read you to sleep to the sound of a world you actually chose and fell in love with.

I could grow an extra hand right out of my chest, straight from my heart, to carry all your books and your bag and your worries down the hallway at school- tell me now if that's what I've got to do, because I could become strong enough to carry you home on the bad days.

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I could dye my hair the colour of the sun and illuminate my eyes so that you would never have to be in the dark corners of your mind?

What about if I were to make reservations to your favourite restaurant every day of the year just so whenever you told me you were hungry, there would never be a problem?

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I slayed a dragon for you? Would you want me to seize its hoard and look through every jewel with an evil eye so that only the best gem would rest against your chest, strung on the purest chain I could find?

I am willing to capture fireflies in mason jars and line every road in town with them so that you could always find your way home. And maybe even always find your way to me.

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I went to the end of the rainbow and searched for the pot of gold to put your mind at rest?

What if I kissed your scars, one by one, to patch up the skin that's never healed right? I'd suck out the poison in your veins and patch up every hole in your heart to make you feel hole.

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I trained my ear to play music without sheet paper so that when you'd hum a song that you'd caught from the radio, you could have a piano to go with?

Would you want me to carry a notepad around and write down every single thing I said before a word slipped out of my mouth to make sure that I never said anything to hurt you? I never would hurt you, but if I ever became your boyfriend I would never want to lose you.

Shall I grow flowers under my window so that every day I could slip one between your ear, give myself an excuse to kiss your face and remind you how much of yours I would be- because I would totally melt, I would be a total sucker. I would be entirely yours.

Would it make me good boyfriend material if I learned the name of every star and every pattern they made in the night sky, so I could forget it all and give them each your name, give each constellation the shape of your eyes?

Because I could do all those things, and I would find a way someway do all those things, and I could and would do so much more…

If I could qualify as good boyfriend material."

* * *

This time when he walked offstage and nobody had whisked Jane away. Will was about to just grab her face in his hands and kiss her senseless right there. She grabbed him by the hand and dragged Will to another subsection of the wing. She threw her arms around his neck and he'd just realised that they were alone when she smashed her lips to his. He tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her back, he couldn't help it. As far as first kisses went, this one was pretty intense- but they'd both been onstage not too long ago, and there were so many people milling around backstage… Adrenaline was high.

And despite the fact that they were in the middle of something with a whole lot of possible onlookers, Will didn't want to pull away.

She looked at him and brushed the hair out of his face.

"I'm expecting you to rename the stars," she whispered.

Will pushed the glasses up her nose.

"I'll name you a galaxy," he said.

* * *

The guy working the poem's orders came to see them.

"No more surprises you too," he said. "Are your last two poems really 'Genie' and 'Astrophysics for Friends 101'?"

"Umm…" Will said.

Jane looked at him with a frown. "Astrophysics? Is it for John?"

"Originally," Will said.

Jane took his hand and her eyes widened.

"Perform it," she said. "He's watching. Everyone's watching. We don't need to bounce poems back in forth. We'll have time for poems. Right? Later?"

Will's stomach filled with butterflies.

_Save your truest poem- the one that everyone needs to hear… make that your finale. _

"Right," he said squeezing her hand. He looked up at the guy and nodded. "We'll have time later."

"If you change it on me I'm murdering you." The guy said. "I'll murder you both together and you can share a crypt _à la _Romeo and Juliet."

* * *

Will adjusted the microphone.

"This next poem is about someone else that I care a whole lot about," Will said. "Don't worry, it's not a girl. I have her permission to recite this; she agrees with me."

There was faint laughter and Will closed his eyes and breathed in and out.

"The idea for the longest time has been to overeducate a bunch of guys, shove them in a lab with some coffee and tell them to give us news once he's shaved the 'non' off of 'nonsense'.

Right now they're looking at the sky and drinking chai lattes in a government funded building after driving into work from their suburban homes, thinking about what they'll put in the yearly report to keep their budget big enough for that nice soap in the bathrooms.

But they don't know what they're looking at. And that's fine I suppose, because nobody ever has. We don't know how the universe made itself, and much less how it made creatures who want to know it.

But here's what I do know.

I know that Pluto is _not _a planet.

I know that that is not okay.

I know that everything spins around something in the universe, kind of like nothing is done just 'cause down here.

I know that the biggest stars have the shortest lifespans, which is why I _shouldn't _get attached to that guy I just heard on the radio even if he is _so _catchy.

I know that when those big stars reach the end of their lives, they explode in the most violent phenomenon in the universe- a supernova. Which is why I should start paying attention to Justin Bieber because this could be interesting.

I know that an asteroid with a confirmed orbit is given a number and later a name if it's lucky. Not everything is in this world.

And I know that we only see comets in the night sky if they leave a tail, a tail meaning that they are too close to the sun and burning away as they fly.

And I know that I am so sorry that I only saw you when you burned."

There was a murmur of approval in the crowd.

"I'm sorry; I should've been with you when everyone was, except unlike them I'd have been on your side. I'm sorry, it should've been clear enough to you that you could walk up to me and say that something was wrong.

But look at it this way. You were flying. You were doing something good enough with yourself for someone to disagree. You were Copernicus telling the nimrods that the earth was round.

I don't know how I'm going to forgive myself for letting your orbit get crossed, so back to facts.

I know that light years measure distance not time, and so I've been wrong my entire life- but not about this.

One light year is 9460730472580800 meters. Our galaxy is about 100 000 light years across. It would take us, humans, with our humanoid and flawed technology, 25, 000 years to travel… one light year. Multiply that by 100 000 and that's how soon you get to even leave the galaxy and see the universe. Light however could get across the universe in 365 000 000 days, and maybe I've got my math wrong but dyslexia is not the point.

So I know that eventually everything will get back on track, everyone will calm down, the dust will settle and you'll cross the goddamned finish line.

I know that galaxies can be elliptic, which is kind of a circle gone wrong, but the deformation doesn't make them galaxies any less- and orbits are elliptic too, so you know what man- you're not alone. And if it's good enough for the planets than it's plenty good enough for the haters.

I know that if everything spins around something, there's an order to this. A moon spins around a planet. And what does a planet spin around? Stars man. Stars.

Which means that really, we're naming the red carpet treaders all wrong. They're looking at each other and at the designers and the agents to know what to do. Then they do the thing, burn really brightly, turn right on the Route of Things Not To Put In Your Body, and supernova so hard that they shake everyone up.

These stars spin around each other. They'd be planets, except for the fact that eventually they explode. New stars are made from the particles of mercury and helium and hydrogen that they left behind. Those explode right after.

That's not what's going on with you man; if you blow, nothing's going to be created except chaos and a gigantic gap in the universe- much less stardust. There's only one of you, and one of you alone. That one of you is independent and unique and rational and thoughtful and so you don't spin around stars. _You _are the star.

The particles that made you are from the four corners of the galaxy. You are literally built from stardust my friend, and unlike the rest of us you live up to that and you've lived up to it ever since I've known you.

_You _are the star, one day you'll be big enough for planets to orbit around you. You are going to shine bright enough to qualify as a sun. Maybe one of them will develop a life form. You'll have a whole solar system at your feet- space junk, celestial orbits, constellations, the works.

I see it, man. I see great things for you. I see great things in the stars. There is no fault in them. Don't you dare cross them."


	9. He Scores

**So before I start, I need to send out a big 'thank you' to all the reviewers. This chapter in particular, among all stories and all chapters, really seemed to... I don't know... _get _to people. And to do it through poetry? That's new to me. I've never considered myself good at poetry, and so this is a first. A great, brilliant first that really made me feel awesome and more confident. So thank you.**

** I'd just like to let you guys know that the last chapter will probably come to you next Sunday or Monday, right before I start school again. Once I start school the flow of fanfiction will kind of _have _to stop- especially since math is on this semester's scheduel. Yipee! Anyways, enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the premise of this story.**

* * *

**Part Nine**

Jane grabbed his hands when he ducked back into the wing.

"Will…" she said shaking her head. "That was… That was beautiful. I…"

He grabbed her in a hug. She rested her head against his chest, which helped him force his heartbeat down.

He was exhausted. Slams took a lot of energy, apparently. Six poems in one night? It was nearly too much. Especially when aforementioned poems centered on the girl he no longer had a crush on but was apparently dating, and the friend that he'd nearly lost so violently. There was a lot going through his head right now, but all of it hushed when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There were whispers of congratulations across the wing. Will shook a few hands and gave a few hugs.

There was a short intermission during which music played and the judges consulted. Jitters ran loose backstage until the master of ceremony made an appearance.

"So," he declared. "I think that it's safe to say that the future of Youth Slam Poetry is safe. A round of applause for all of tonight's participants is quite clearly in order!"

Clapping and whooing filled the theater. Will registered the echo of the crowd for the first time and was nearly sick. God, the place was _huge. _So many people were in there...

"However we've thrown numbers into the mix and scored poems individually," the MOC said. "Here are our results;

"In third place the judges would like to congratulate Emad Al-Mubarak, particularly on his poem _The Price of Gas and Life."_

Will clapped Emad on the back and he smiled before heading onstage. He shook hands with the master of ceremony and accepted a small medal.

"Now onstage please welcome our runner ups," he said once Emad was offstage and the crowd had relaxed. "We couldn't have one without the other- please welcome Will Solace and Jane Clark Green!"

The crowd cheered.

Will smiled at Jane. She beamed back and held out her hand. Will took it, and that's how they walked onstage together.

That's how they did a lot of things from that point on.

* * *

Will's mother smashed him between her and a bouquet of flowers.

"Will you were fantastic," she said in the crook of his neck. She looked up and then turned her eyes to Jane quickly. Her smile was sly.

"That wasn't planned was it?"

Will shook his head. "Nah. I threw most of my entries out the window."

Mom hugged him again.

"I brought flowers like you said to," she said.

"Why did you need flowers?" Jane asked. Alex and Tony were with her, Tony holding her hand. The second place medal was around her neck.

"You always give flowers to someone after they perform," Will said. "Etiquette and stuff."

He handed her the flowers and she nodded a thank you. The flowers were an especially nice touch after tonight's spin into awesomeness, but it was ridiculous how awkward things were now with their parents all around them.

"Oh, we all know you kissed backstage," Tony said frustrated. "Hold hands, arms around each other's shoulders, do _something _to make this less awkward."

And so they did.

And Marilyn screamed when she found them.

* * *

Of course it was all over Facebook. So within a night, everyone in school knew.

"We may as well hold hands," Jane suggested as they walked to math class.

"Thought you'd never ask," Will said slipping his fingers through hers.

They held hands across the alley all of class as Will tried to steal her answers for the next seventy five minutes.

* * *

The bell rang and everyone ran out of English class.

"I'll wait in the hall," Jane told Will. She eclipsed herself so quickly, Will frowned. Then he saw the way Mr Evanson was looking at him. He didn't even have to be asked to walk up to his desk.

"Hey sir," Will said.

"That was quite the slam," Mr Evanson said. "You really do know how to steal a show, William."

Will looked down at his shoes. "That… the thing with Jane… it just kind of…"

"Happened?" Mr Evanson suggested. "Don't you get it Will? That's the beautiful part about all of this. The versatility of your words... You had six other poems selected for the Slam, yes? But you'd written about her- you'd put your feelings into words, you'd done it for fun, for pleasure, for relief. It came out naturally, didn't it? Even if you didn't win first place, you did something incredible using words and the world around you. Something incredible and true. That's the poet's soul, William. That's what I wanted you to see before I had you pass."

"Are you telling me that if I hadn't hooked up with Jane in the middle of a poetry slam, I wouldn't have passed your class?" Will asked.

"Oh, you would've passed." Mr Evanson's eye twinkled. "Just not with flying colours."

_A+ and an excuse to spend more time with Jane, _Will thought. _Sweet deal. _

* * *

"So you and Jane hooked up?" John asked.

"You really are a sly bastard, Solace," Dave said.

John was home from the hospital now. He was sleeping in his bed in his room like he'd always been, but now his mother was in charge of his pills and the medicine cabinet's content had all been put under key. There were locks on the cabinets under the sinks, and the knives had been transferred there too. John felt bad about it, but he didn't blame anybody. Not even himself. That felt like a small, thankful miracle.

They wouldn't see much of him in school until exams since his doctors didn't want his anxiety to shoot up unnecessarily- it hardly mattered, he was in advance with all the work he did in the Center anyways.

Dave and Will had stopped by his house after classes on the first school day after the Slam. Marilyn had steered Jane into her house, so Will could only imagine what kind of grilling she was going through.

"That's all you retained from that Slam?" Will asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"It was pretty huge," Dave shrugged. "I mean, we were getting away with sleepovers before but now? No way josé, I don't see her dads or your mom agreeing to it after _that_."

"I guess," Will asked.

"You were still crossing your fingers."

"Get your head out of the gutter, you're embarrassing all of us," Will said. Only he was blushing though.

"_I_ actually have a sense of humour," Dave said.

But Will was looking at John and repeating the question in his head and hopefully through his eyes. _That's all you retained from that slam?_

John shook his head.

"Thanks," he said. "I appreciated it. I guess… well, when you put it like that… it made sense. I made sense. I'm not better, but I want to be now."

Will smiled and patted John on the arm.

"All I wanted to hear," he said.

* * *

Will: I wrote your name in the sand but the waves washed it away.

Jane: I wrote your name in the clouds but the winds pushed it away.

Will: Crap you've heard this already?

Jane: Yes, but I love it. Keep going.

Will: I wrote your name in my heart and forever it will stay. –Anonymous.

Jane: Lovely :)

Will: Like you.

Jane: You flirt!

Will: Of course.

Jane: You can flirt in the morning. Goodnight.

Will: Night. (last message: 12:03)

They always _did_ have time for poems, just like she'd promised.

* * *

Marilyn, Jane, David and Will were walking home after their last day of school before exams. Well, not 'home'. To John and Marilyn's places. Close enough.

David had forgotten something in his locker, so Marilyn was going with him since she knew the combination. She'd refused to leave Will and Jane alone, so she'd gotten dragged back inside the school as well. Will stayed outside and texted Mom so that she'd know that he was out late. She'd just texted back, asking if he was spending the night, when he heard a familiar voice.

"And slow, slow as the winter snow  
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;  
And my poor cheeks, five months ago  
Set blushing at thy praises so,  
Put paleness on for a disguise.  
Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!  
For if my face is turned too pale,  
It was thine oath that first did fail, -  
It was thy love proved false and frail, -  
And why, since these be changed enow,  
Should I change less than thou."

Before he'd finished reciting, Will had recognised the guy. Same sunglasses, but clothes more casual than the grey suit- some jeans and a t-shirt for an indie band Will had never heard up.

"Elisabeth Barrett Browning," the guy said.

"Violently and unjustly paraphrased Elisabeth Barrett Browning," Will said.

"You know her?"

"My…" _girlfriend loves Elisabeth Barrett Browning. _"Yeah," Will said. "Who are you? Why are you here again?"

"Well, last time I was there to give you some advice."

"It was creepy," Will said. "It's still creepy now. Get away."

"But it worked, didn't it?" the guy shrugged.

He thought of the effect that _Astrophysics _had had. He thought of the way John was happy to see them now, not afraid or shy or awkward.

"Yeah," he admitted half-heartedly. "It did."

"So listen to my advice this time. Get out of Orlando."

"_What?" _Will asked.

"Get out of Orlando. If you stay one more night, it'll be too late. Things have changed."

What he'd been reciting... _Change Upon Change,_ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

"You're a creep," Will spat. "That's a horrible thing to say. Get away from me."

"I would if I could," the guy said. "But trust me on this. Drop whatever it is you're doing here and go."

"I can't do that," Will said blushing furiously. "I have exams tomorrow. My family's here, my friends too. And…"

"Yes, I know. You've been with your girlfriend for less than a month and you're very set on not blowing this relationship. It's a shame, she's a keeper, but you want to stay alive don't you?"

"Of course I…" Will realised that he should ignore him. Maybe walk back to the school. Get away from the conversation, at any rate. Especially since his knee still wasn't great- he'd really overdone yesterday's basketball with Adam.

"Text your mother," he said nudging his head towards the phone. "Tell Mia that the sun has set."

"How do you know my mom's name?" Will yelled raising his fists. "Who are you?

"She'll tell you. she knows. Just like she knows what that means."

"What does it mean?" Will said, ready to punch.

The man lowered his sunglasses. His eyes were blue as Will's- the colour that Jane liked so much.

That mom liked so much...

"That things are about to get very ugly if you don't get a move on," he said.


	10. Epilogue

**It's hard to say goodbye to stories, but especially for this story. You guys were awesome, constructive, excited and supportive reviewers. I never expected this story to affect as many people as it did, but I am most certainly glad and honoured that it did. Thank you for everything, through and through.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Will Solace or the events of The Battle of the Labyrinth. **

* * *

**Part Ten**

* * *

**Two years later**

Moving on to bigger issues than mutiny.

Jane.

He only saw her in person a few times per year, a few more via Iris Message, and nearly every day by rereading letters, or snatching up whatever he received from her during mail call. Sometimes he received a whole bunch of letters folded in an envelope, sometimes packs of them- a pack for Marilyn, one for David, another for John, maybe a note or a drawing of a basketball hoop from Adam…-and he reread them one by one so that it was just like getting the daily update after a day at school. Okay, it wasn't like that at all. She felt far away and he missed her, but that was what Iris Message was for, right?

She was in her room, the burgundy-walled room with mirrors and bird cut-outs and books everywhere, when he called. She was reading the newspaper on her bed. Her tanned legs were peeking out of boy shorts and she was wearing an enormous grey shirt- it was either his or David's. Her glasses rested on the tip of her nose and her hair was wrapped up in a knot behind her head, though loose strands toppled around her face in a messy and endearing way.

"Jane," he said.

She looked up at him and broke into a smile.

"Will!" she beamed. "It's been so-"

Her face fell when she saw his.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, frowning as if she could suck the problem right out of his mind.

Thank the gods that she could tell these things. He wouldn't be able to shatter her excitement and be the messenger of bad news if he tried for a thousand years…

"William Solace, you tell me what's wrong right now," she said shoving the newspaper aside. "Are you hurt?"

Will swallowed hard.

"Lee died," he said quickly. He felt irrationally bad about it, as if his saying it made it any more real or permanent.

Jane dropped her newspaper and put her hands against her mouth.

"Fletcher?" She checked halfheartedly. Jane had met Lee, the only sibling that Will had ever taken home since he'd insisted on Will _not _traveling back to Orlando alone on the first try. They'd kicked off okay- they had the same kind of temperament and whatnot.

"Yeah," Will said. He was still shaking. "We had a battle at camp…"

It occurred to him how much Jane would love to hear about the Labyrinth. She'd gotten so interested in Greek mythology once he'd coughed up the truth about his dad to her, after he'd found out and been relocated to camp, of course. It could have been ugly- she could have called him a lunatic, thought that it was all an elaborate prank… but no. Jane had stuck to her usual self –that is to say, being awesome- and she'd believed him after a quick fact check and interview with his mother. She'd gone so far as researching mythology, reading old musty texts, and sending him anecdotes or quotes from the Iliad scrawled on the back of the envelopes that post cards and letters came in regularly. Bless her.

But Will couldn't talk about that right now. He didn't want to hear anything about Luke, Kronos, the Labyrinth, Daedalus or war at the moment. But of course, Jane wasn't done worrying...

"Oh God," Jane said. "I'm so sorry… I couldn't imagine… Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Did your knee hold up? How bad was it?"

"My knee's fine, Jane. It _will _heal completely after all- that's what…" _Lee. _"That's what my siblings say. You can stop worrying about it."

"That's not what I heard from Kayla," Jane said.

"What are you doing talking to my siblings?" Will asked.

"Backing up my intellect," she said. "Good thing I do. Oh God, Will, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Don't tell my mother," Will said automatically.

Mom had nearly started crying when he'd told her what the man with the blue eyes, stinking Apollo- the melodramatic bastard couldn't actually just come out with the truth, he had to be sinister and mysterious while claiming his children- had said. But she hadn't.

She'd given him five minutes to pack a carry-on, taken a wad of bills out of the freezer, and once they'd gotten in the car, she'd told him to call Jane and tell her that he had to go to New York for a family emergency. She wouldn't explain more than that. She just shipped him on a plane and told him to wait in the airport at New York until someone who knew his name and wore an orange shirt found him- but not to leave, talk or even look at anyone else. That was Mitchie, Will's satyr.

Jane nodded. "Anything else?"

He felt pitiful. He wanted her to hold him. He wanted to lie down in bed with her and forget the world. He wanted her to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his hair, his lips, his neck, his collarbone. He wanted to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her hair, her lips, her neck, her collarbone. _That's _what she could do to make him feel better. Unfortunately physics didn't work that way.

Jane put her hand up in front of her, sensing his look of worry.

Will put his hand up front too. As close to holding hands as they got- which Will felt guilty about. Jane deserved someone who could show up at her house in the middle of the night when something went wrong, who'd hug her from behind or kiss her neck out of the blue… but she wanted him. And a part of Will could never be more thankful.

Jane lied down in bed. Will lay down on the bathroom floor. It wasn't perfect, but it was their perfect.

"Tell me about home?"

"John won his science fair," she said.

"I knew it."

Jane smiled. "Full scholarship to Princeton, leading astrophysics program in the country- and it's all guaranteed before he even _starts _the twelfth grade. He was even approached by someone from Munich who was impressed by his proposed experiment. He'll be an astronaut before we know it."

"I have a lot of trouble imagining him going out into space," Will said. He'd seen John on a rollercoaster. It wasn't pretty. But Will really had to see John again sometime soon.

"Well, he'll at least study it. Marilyn applied for Harvard early. We'll see how it goes and if all that extra homework paid off."

Of course it would. Marilyn made Will think of a daughter of Athena, except with a bigger taste for earrings and feathers and hair dye and sticking out like a sore yet fashionable thumb. He missed her too.

"Dave?" Will checked.

"Dave's going to take a year off before doing anything else. He says that he wants to travel longer than the rest of us are planning to. Spend more than next summer overseas; go to more places."

"Where does he want to go so badly?" Will asked, surprised.

"Even he doesn't know. Marilyn is starting to collect money so that he can send us post cards as he goes. I guess we'll figure everything out then"

"The blind guy shouldn't be the one traveling on his own," Will said.

"He's got Wookie. That dog's so vicious and loyal; I think he'll be okay. Besides, it's _David _that we're talking about."

"I guess so. And you?"

"Still have that NYU scholarship under check," she said. She smiled and Will smiled back.

Thanks to her excellent work at the slams and maybe Mr Evanson pulling some strings, this year was their last year apart. They'd get to see each other! She'd move to the city for school, and Will was planning on applying to NYU as well. Even if he didn't get in, he was moving out to the city unless anything happened to the cabin, to camp or the world. He couldn't _wait _to see Jane on a regular basis.

Next year their relationship would make a bit more sense. Bless Jane for carrying it out with his frustrating and demigodly ass long distance for three years. This would be like a breath of fresh air for both of them.

"How's baseball going?" Will asked.

"Fine," she said. "We won our game last night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I played shortstop again."

Will smiled. Shortstop required lots of throwing and running- something Jane had always been scared of doing. Not all epileptics got triggered by physical exercise, but Jane did. "And?"

"It went okay. Coach even said I should consider playing short more often."

"Great!" Will said.

Jane nodded. "Adam's team got third place in the basketball tournament.

"Right on!" Will said smiling for real.

"He scored a goal in their winning game." Jane said. She was smiling with pride. "They won by a longshot, so it wouldn't have mattered, but hey. I've never seen him more proud."

"Tell him I'm proud of him, okay?"

"I don't know if he'll be able to handle that," Jane teased him. "I still have to live with him for a year. Don't want his ego to get to big. Matthew's just got his degree; he's already looking for a job with the schools to work with special ed kids."

She must've realised that talking about her brothers made Will a bit sick to the stomach.

"I'm sorry about Lee."

Will said. "Stuff like this… it happens all the time. Even more so now."

Jane's eyebrows furrowed. "You're still safe?"

"I'm working on it, Jane. I swear. Okay, tell me more."

"Lily's wedding is in December. Will it be safe for you to come?"

"I'm coming down for that no matter what, remember? Don't you go and get yourself another plus one. I'd hate to have to beat a guy up."

Jane laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it. You should see the dresses that Lily's put us in."

She was teasing. Gods, he hated that.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't wait for you to see."

"I can't wait to see you in it."

Jane smiled and rolled her eyes.

"It's late. You look exhausted," she said.

"I am," Will said.

"You should get some sleep," she said. "We can talk tomorrow, I'm not working until Friday."

Will nodded.

Jane blew him a kiss.

"Kiss you in person soon. Love you."

"Love you too. I wrote your name in the sand but the waves washed it away," he said.

Jane started her line, "I wrote your name in the clouds but the winds pushed it away."

"I wrote your name in my heart and forever it will stay."

Even now: they had time for poetry.

The End

* * *

12:00 AM, 8/6/2013

11:20 PM, 23/9/2013

Forever scripting,

HecateA


End file.
